


Million Reasons To Leave

by ThatComicGirl52



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Don't Judge Me, Don't Like Don't Read, M/M, You Have Been Warned, no capes AU, super heavy stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 39
Words: 132,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatComicGirl52/pseuds/ThatComicGirl52
Summary: I am nothing without Bruce. He is everything to me. I might hate the things he has done to me, but I can never leave him. Bruce is all I have.





	1. I Am His

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank all the writers on this site for inspiring me to write again.

I bite my lower lip to hold back the cry of pain as rough hands tug at my skin. He has me on my stomach, naked and vulnerable and all his for the taking. I hate it. I hate feeling so open and welcoming to him. I hate feeling like his property, but that's exactly what I am. I am Bruce's and only Bruce's, and that is never going to change.  

He has me between his legs, sitting comfortingly on my back. I feel the touch of his hands disappear, and hear the click of a bottle. Then those big hands are back, starting at my upper torso, and torturously going lower. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on the warmth of the oil against my skin. I am trying to ignore the prying strokes on my ass, the stretch of my anus. I don't want this. I don’t want this. 

"Bruce, please-"

 "Shush Dick. I know, I know." Bruce whispers, his mouth right by my ear. He nuzzles my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I feel the gentle kiss he leaves there, followed by a wet lick, and I shudder. A hand pulls at my hair, massaging my scalp. I groan, and instantly feel ashamed. I could feel my cock harden, and a tear escapes from my closed eyes. How could my body respond like this? Why was it betraying me?

 I jump when I feel a thick finger invading my hole. I whimper as a tongue laps at my ear and the finger curls within me. It doesn't so much hurt as it is just uncomfortable. Before I could get used to the one finger, another finger is added, pumping in and out at a steady pace. I can't help the groans, whimpers, and pleads that came rushing out of my mouth. And I hate myself for it. I hate how after all these years, my body has accepted this. I had not only accepted Bruce as my guardian, but as my lover as well. I hate how my body responds so positively to his touch, when once upon a time, I was just as repulsed physically as I am mentally.

 "I think you're ready for me now." He whispers to me, and before I could respond, the fingers were replaced with something much thicker and fuller. 

"Bruce. Don't. Stop." I beg as he slowly begins to thrust in and out.  

"My sweet boy, I'll never stop. I promise I won't." Bruce says in a strained voice, and begins to thrust harder and faster. I want to shout how that wasn't what I had meant, but I’m having trouble forming words. I can feel the tip of my cock leaking, and Bruce hasn't even touched it! I can't help it.

The tears flow down my cheeks in streams. I cry because I need him to keep going but I also need him to stop. I don't know what I want. My brain screams for one thing, but my body clearly wants something else.  I can't move underneath him, his body my prison. I can't meet his thrusts in response, even though my body is begging to. This only makes me cry harder.  

We come together in spurts of cum. I feel his cock soften in my hole and a wet stickiness on my stomach. Bruce's body comes to a still, his arms curling around my torso, pulling me closer. His thumbs stroke my hip bones, and I shove my face into one of the silk pillows in hopes that Bruce won't see my tears.  

Finally, he pulls out of my body, and silently and smoothly flips me onto my back so that he can see my face. I shut my eyes tightly as he licks away the cum from my stomach. After he’s cleaned me with his tongue, Bruce resettles himself against my body, grabbing hold of my legs and placing them so they wrap around his waist.  I try to look anywhere but at Bruce, my eyes settling on the window curtains over his shoulder.

  
“Dick, look at me.” Bruce commands in his deep voice. Just the sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. Everything about Bruce, from the way he carries himself to how he speaks, demands attention and respect.

  
Reluctantly, I shift my gaze, staring deep into those blue, cold eyes. Every time Bruce looks at me it always feels like he’s seeing right through me. It feels like he could look right into my being, see what I am made of. I can't keep anything from him. He’s Bruce and Bruce always know everything.

  
His hands gently cup my face, wiping away the tears.

  
“You're crying,” He points out in a curious tone. I swallow hard as Bruce places feather light kisses along my cheeks, my jaw, and then my eyelids. I don't dare move a muscle. “Talk to me.”

  
“I don't want this.” I sob. Bruce's eyebrows pull together in confusion. His lips brush against my cheeks, coming dangerously close to my own. Ever so softly, his mouth brushes against mine. It is sweet and gentle, and on instinct, I reciprocate. Bruce nips at my bottom lip before pulling away. He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, his eyes absorbing every detail of my face.

  
“You don't know what you want. You're too young to know.” The way Bruce says it makes it clear that the conversation is over. I want to scream at this answer. I clearly wasn't too young for him to not feel guilty about fucking me! My feelings must show on my face because he shakes his head at me with a disapproving look.

  
“Don't look at me that way Dick. I'm your guardian. The only one who knows what's best for you is me. You can't make these kind of choices on your own. It's my responsibility to make these decisions for you.”

  
His right hand creeps away from my face, to my neck, my stomach, and then around to my back. My hands reached out to fist the sheets as Bruce rubs my ass, his fingers crawling towards my hole.

  
“Not again, please,” I plead, the desperation clear in my voice, “It hurts.”

  
“Ssshh,” he whispers, giving me a soft kiss in an effort to soothe me, “You've been so good for me. You're my good, sweet boy, aren't you?”

  
I could feel his smirk against my lips as he continues to kiss me, his tongue poking at my lips. I have no choice but to open my mouth and allow him access. It's terrible what those words do to me. When Bruce compliments and praises me like that, it sends something warm and satisfying throughout my body. In the first two years of my life with Bruce, I spent every second trying to get his attention and approval. Even after everything he's done to me, a huge part of me still looks for both those things.

  
On the Night That Changed Everything, Bruce welcomed me into his home with open arms. No one forced him to do that, which means he could get rid of me at any moment. I might hate what Bruce has does to me, but without him I am nothing. Without Bruce, I have nothing. I need him. Not just because he gives me a place to live and food to eat, but because he's the only friend I have, the only person who is there for me. Without him I am just a lost, scared little boy. I need him to keep approving of me and loving me, and that means I can never deny him anything.

  
To my great relief, his hands slide away from my anus, and settle on rubbing my ass cheeks instead.

  
“Starting Monday, you will be attending Gotham Academy.” Bruce states casually, as if he didn't just pull this sentence out of nowhere. My hands let go of the sheets, my body wiggling to sit up. Bruce sits up on his knees, giving me space to pull the nearest blanket over my naked body. I pull my legs up to my chest, my arms wrapping around them protectively. Subconsciously, I begin to rock back and forth.

  
Where had this come from? Why would Bruce decide this? It doesn’t make sense that he would send me to an actual school. All four years I've been with Bruce, I've been homeschooled by Alfred. He's never said it out loud, but I know it’s because Bruce wants to keep a close eye on me. So that he knew of and could control every single thing I did. Sending me to an actual school would mean that he can't make all those choices for me. It means that I could talk to who I wanted to, eat what I wanted, and go where I wanted for six hours a day five days a week. And Bruce was okay with that? Since when?!

  
“Wha- I mean, why?” I sputtered. Bruce gave me a condescending smile, placing a hand on my knee.

  
“Homeschooling has been great, but I think you need to improve upon your social skills. Unfortunately, that's something Alfred cannot teach you.” Bruce explains, and I kind of have to agree with him. Bruce took me in when I was nine, and since then, I haven't really interacted with anyone but Bruce and Alfred. I talk to other people sometimes when Alfred takes me to Wayne Enterprises to visit Bruce, or when the company holds a gala or fundraiser and I’m obligated as Bruce Wayne’s ward to go. Even then, it was never without Bruce’s watchful eye.

  
Before the Night That Changed Everything, I was one of the most outgoing and talkative people at the circus. All the memories I have of my parents and the circus were of laughter, of flying through the air, and of feeling so happy sometimes that I felt like I was going to burst. But that was before. After that night, the person I used to be was almost completely gone, and two years later, Bruce stripped away anything that was left of that nine year old acrobat.

  
“I guess it would be nice to get out of the Manor a little,” I mumble, picking at a scab on my leg. Bruce takes my hand into his much larger one, leaning down to kiss my palm.

  
“I'm glad you can see it my way.” He says with a bright smile.

  
“What if I don't like it though? Can I go back to being homeschooled?” I ask, but why would I even ask that? Of course I was going to like it. It meant time away from Bruce, and that was a good thing. At least, I think it's a good thing.

  
A hand lifts my chin so that I have no choice but to look Bruce in the face. His face is hard and focused as if he’s searching for something within my expression. There's a long moment of silence that seems to stretch endlessly.

  
“We’ll see,” he finally says. And with that, Bruce sweeps his head down for a kiss, and I try to pretend that my body doesn't willingly open itself up to him.

 

 


	2. The Morning Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! I love hearing what you guys thought of the first chapter, and they really encourage me to continue with this story. Please leave comments down below because I would love to know what you think of this chapter.

I tug on my cuffed sleeve for what feels like the hundredth time before entering the dining room. As expected, Bruce is sitting at the head of the table with a plate of food, a coffee, and iPhone in hand. Alfred places a similar breakfast and a glass of orange juice next to Bruce. They both look up at me as I walk in. Bruce’s face breaks out into a grin.

  
“Well look at you!” He exclaims, his eyes running over every part of of my body. I can't help but fidget as he does. “You look great.”

  
A tiny smile forms on my face, my cheeks warm at the compliment as I stare down at my shiny loafers in embarrassment.

  
“You look very charming Master Dick.” Alfred says in his crisp British accent. I quietly thank Alfred and join Bruce at my regular seat next to his. The way Bruce is looking at me does nothing to settle my nerves. He's leaning over in his seat, his tongue licking his lips, watching me like he wants to eat me. He probably does. I lower my eyes to my plate of buttered pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

  
“You look like a proper school boy.” Bruce says fondly. I thought the same thing in my bedroom when I looked at myself in the full length mirror. The Gotham Academy uniform consisted of black khakis, a white button down shirt, a black blazer, and a navy blue and grey tie. Navy blue and grey are the school colors. I look like a character out of a movie. I don't feel like myself at all.

  
My eyes flicker up to meet his for a moment before settling back down on my meal. I pick up my fork and begin to poke at the pancakes.

  
“Eat up Master Dick. You have a big day ahead of you.” Alfred says in a cheery tone, dropping a brown paper bag and a lanyard down next to me. I jump at his voice, not realizing that Alfred had reentered the room. He seems to be in an awfully good mood today. Probably because he no longer has to spend hours at a time with me. While Alfred has never said it out loud, it was always obvious that he doesn't think much of me. When possible, he pretends that I'm not even there. I know why he doesn't like me. It's because I'm responsible for making Bruce the monster that he is today. 

I pick up the paper bag, running my hands over my name written in black Sharpie. I look up at Bruce, who has directed his attention back to his iPhone.

  
“I was hoping I could buy my lunch at school,” I say in a timid voice, folding and unfolding the paper bag. When there's no response I continue, “I just thought it would be nice to pick out my own meal….”

  
I have to stop myself from adding the words “for once” to the end of that sentence. Bruce glances up at me before returning to his phone, a slight smile on his face.

  
“I need to make sure your body continues to get the proper nutrients it needs. What did I say the other night? You're too young to know what's best for you. You're a growing a boy after all. Trust me on this.”

  
I push the lunch bag away, turning my attention to the lanyard instead. It matches the shade of blue on my tie and it has the initials GA written all over it. Attached to it is a small, plastic card that reads the words ‘Richard Grayson, Grade Seven’.

  
“You have to wear that at all times while at school. They won't allow you in otherwise.” Bruce explains, not even sparing me a flicker of a look. I put the lanyard around my neck and fold it under my collar. My fingers brush against the little bump on the back of my neck. I run a finger over it. I'm not sure where the bump came from, but I know it's been there for years and both Bruce and Alfred claim it’s harmless.

  
Bruce looks up from his phone to see my untouched breakfast.

  
“Eat. You heard what Alfred said.” He demands, and I pick up my fork again, shoving a large forkful of eggs into my mouth in an effort to please Bruce. He shoots me a disapproving look, and I instantly sit up straighter and chew slower.

  
The thing is, I'm not hungry at all. I feel like I'm going to be sick. All weekend, I've been anxiously waiting for this morning. I've never been to regular school before. In Haly’s Circus, my mom schooled me and after Bruce adopted me, Alfred took over that job. I've seen how schools work in movies and TV, and honestly? It looks terrifying. I haven't talked to anyone my age in years. Not since the Night That Changed Everything. A million thoughts race through my head as I eat, but there's only one that sticks. It's that I don't think I can do this.

  
My fork clatters against my empty plate, but I barely register the sound. Bruce lets out a satisfied sigh, putting his phone down to give me a wide smile and a hard clap on my shoulder.

  
“You ready to go?” He asks jovially, and stands to leave without waiting for a response. I don't know why he's in such a cheery mood today. I would think Bruce would be upset that he's losing this form of control over me.

  
Taking a deep breathe, I grab my lunch and stand up, following Bruce out of the dining room. Very soon I will be at my new school, and I'm having trouble speaking at the moment because I'm so afraid of what might when I get there.

  
Alfred waits at the front door of the Manor, a black backpack and a string bag in his hands. His expression is as hard as stone as I put my lunch bag in the book bag he hands me, and then swing it over and onto my shoulders. The string bag containing my gym clothes swings back and forth between my hands.

  
I follow Bruce out the front door to the waiting red Porsche that sits in the front of the long driveway. It's only one of the dozens of cars Bruce owns. He opens the passenger door for me and waits, a small smile on his lips. Knowing I have no choice, I slide into the fine leathered seat, the door slamming shut behind me. It feels like an eternity before Bruce sits down beside me in the driver's seat, and I hear the lock of the car doors. I am officially trapped.

  
“I thought Alfred would drive me.” I say, finally able to find my voice again. “Don’t you have to get to work?”

  
“And miss dropping you off on your first day of school? Never.” Bruce responds with a grin. I swallow tightly. I hate being in this car with Bruce. The windows are so tainted you can't see into the car, which means Bruce can do whatever he wants to me. He wouldn't do anything now though, would he? I have to get to school after all.

  
I pray that Bruce doesn't try to talk to me on this drive. I have to put all my efforts into not puking my guts out from nerves. I watch the outside world change from the long plains of Wayne Manor to the tall buildings of Gotham City. My hands twist in my lap for a moment but then stop because I know how much that annoys Bruce. I don't even notice how my left leg starts shaking until Bruce places a firm hand on my knee.

  
He gives me a warning look, and my leg stills beneath is threatening hand. He doesn't remove it though. Instead, Bruce's hand drags towards the inside of my thigh, resting it there.

  
“You're nervous.” He says. It's not a question; he's just stating a fact. I nod my head in response because I know that's what he wants. “Tell me why.”

  
I swallow hard. Bruce doesn't like it when I don't follow his commands, and I don't want to make him angry, but I'm still struggling to talk. I'm so scared of all the things that can go wrong today, and it just feels too hard to open my mouth at all.  
I guess I take too long to answer because Bruce's hand slides from my thigh to my covered groin, giving it a hard squeeze. I gasp in surprise, and without thinking about it, I start babbling out all the thoughts that are running through my head.

  
“I've never gone to an actual school before. What if no one likes me? What if I say or do the wrong thing? What if everyone thinks I'm weird? What if no one talks to me? What if someone sees the bruises and realizes what's going on? Then everyone will know how sad and pathetic I really am! They'll know that I'm nothing but Bruce Wayne’s plaything, and I just can't do it! And having your hand there right now is only making me more nervous! I can't do this Bruce, please don't make me do this!”

  
What follows my outburst is an obnoxious silence. I can't believe I just said all that out loud to him. I can feel my face get as hot as the sun, and I look down at my lap in order to avoid Bruce's eyes, but then I’m stuck looking at his hand slowly rubbing my crotch. I look up at the roof of the car instead, but can't help the whimper that bubbles out of my mouth as my cock hardens underneath his rough hand.

  
“Look at me.” Bruce says in a hard voice, but I can't bring myself to look at him. I'm too embarrassed. “I said, look at me Dick!”

  
The hand that's not currently residing between my legs roughly grabs my chin, and in a flash Bruce's face is inches from mine and I have no choice but to look him in the eyes now. I was so busy thinking about all the things that could go wrong today that I hadn't even noticed we’re sitting in the school’s back parking lot. There are a lot less cars back here then there is in the main parking in the front of the school.

  
Bruce's breath is heavy, his mixing with mine. He presses his forehead against my own. We're looking at each other so intently, I feel like I could fall in and drown in his eyes.

  
“Now you listen to me, okay?” Bruce says through his teeth. I shift my body closer to his, hanging on his every word. Bruce is the only person who can help me, he's the only person willing to help me.

  
“First off, you are going to walk into that school, go to your classes, and be a good boy because that's what I told you to do. I don't care if you fucking pee your pants while you're doing it; either way you will listen to me. Second off, no one will see the bruises because we’ve already discussed how you will not, under any circumstance, roll up your sleeves. Remember that the bruises are a sign of how much I love you; they're proof of my love to you. Others won't see it that way though. You know what they would do if they found out about you and me? They would take you away and put you in a foster home with people who don't give a shit about you, and you’d be lost and alone. And I know you don't want that, do you?”

  
I gulp loudly, my whole body shaking now from both his words and what Bruce is continuing to do against my clothed cock. His hand is gripping my jaw so tightly it hurts. Just imagining my life without Bruce makes me want to cry. Bruce is everything to me; he's all I have. I can't let anyone take him away from me. I shake my head no to his rhetorical question.

  
“Good, and you are my plaything Dick. I own you and that means I can use you in anyway that I see fit, but I don't use that to my advantage. Everything I do is in your best interest. You're the only thing I love and care about. Yes, you're my plaything, but you're my plaything because it's what's best for you. Do you understand that?”

  
“Y-yes.” I answer in a shaky voice, and a small smile creeps onto Bruce’s face. His hand on my jaw eases up, and the rubbing of the hand between my thighs begins moving at a slower, more sensual pace.

  
His lips press against mine, hungry and needy. I respond in kind, desperate for his guidance and protection. I can't do this on my own. I need him there to guide me, to tell me what to do. I don't want to say goodbye to him. I don't want Bruce to leave me here by myself. How did I ever think for a second that I could do this?

  
There's the click of a seatbelt and then Bruce is pulling my body onto his lap, my legs on either side of his waist. His lips pull away from mine, and he begins to leave a trail of kisses down my neck. His hands rush down my stomach to my lap, eagerly undoing my new school belt. My head falls back as I try to catch my breathe. That's when I realize what I'm doing.

  
I don't want this. I never agreed to any of this. Bruce has forced himself upon me day after day, and I don't even try to fight him back anymore. This isn't right. What Bruce is doing to me isn't right, even if my body reacts so magnificently to his every touch. This is illegal and wrong. On top of of all that, I am going to be late for school!

  
“I have school Bruce. We can't do this now.” I manage to gasp. Bruce doesn't stop though. If anything he moves quicker now, unzipping my fly and shoving his hand down my boxers.

  
“We’ll have to be quick then.” He remarks. As he wraps his warm hand around my naked cock, I let out a deep groan. It's one of the most obscene things I've ever heard come out of my mouth, and I absolutely despise it. I want to go back in time and take it back. Bruce chuckles at my response as he begins to thrust at an intense speed. My hips move on their own accord, a low grunt repeatedly spilling out of my mouth as his hand quickens.

  
“My little schoolboy, always so good for me. You’re such a good boy.” Bruce snickers in my ear. A whimper is my only answer, my arms wrapping around his neck tightly. It's awful the effect those words have on me. I press my face against his neck, breathing in the scent that is Bruce. He smells like comfort and familiarity. I don't ever want to let go of that.

  
My moans get louder, my whole body moving simultaneously with the hand on my stiff member, and suddenly I'm cumming and spilling all over Bruce's hand. I keep my face against his neck, riding out the last few waves of my orgasm. I need to remind myself that this isn't what I want.

  
Bruce doesn't rush or push me away; he just holds me tight and works my cock until it's soft and limp in his hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Real School

I stand at the front entrance of the school, my brain screaming at me to run out of there and never come back. I am frozen in my spot; my legs glued to the floor. There are kids everywhere; talking in obnoxiously loud voices as they rush around me like they know what they're doing. I never know what I'm doing.

  
I'm horrified when everything starts to get blurry, my eyes clouding with tears. A boy brushes past me, eyeing me strangely. I cannot start crying. Everyone will definitely think I'm weird for sure. I rub at my eyes with the back of my sleeve, trying to ignore all the chaos that is happening around me and focus on the task at hand.

  
On the opposite wall is a sign that reads ‘Front Office, Auditorium, Guidance Office, Nurse’ with arrows pointing in different directions. I follow the sign for the front office because that's what Bruce told me to do.

  
You know, after he wiped away my cum, tightly squeezed my ass, and gave me a hard kiss that hurt my mouth. It's like what he always says; he knows what's best for me.

  
The door to the office is heavy as I push it open. I walk towards the front desk on legs that feel like lead. There's a blonde haired woman sitting at a computer, her forehead crinkled in concentration as she clicks away at something. She looks intimidating and cold with her sharp cheekbones, tight bun, and metal glasses perched upon her long nose. I clear my throat to get her attention. She looks up from her computer, eyes narrowing when they land on me.

  
“Can I help you?” She asks in a distasteful voice. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

  
“Um, yes. My name’s Richard Grayson. This is my first day, and I was told to come here.” I answer in a tiny voice. At the sound of my name, the woman’s face lights up with recognition, a phony grin spreading across her face.

  
“Richard Grayson, of course!” She says in a much more cheery voice than before. “You're Bruce Wayne’s ward. Mr. Willer, he's the principle, is waiting for you in his office. Just give me a moment. I'm Ms. Donnall, by the way. If you ever have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.”

  
I give her a half smile as Ms. Donnall picks up a phone to make a call. This often happens when I meet people. As soon as I'm formerly introduced they act all sweet and kind to me. It's because I'm Bruce Wayne’s ward, and no one is loved and respected in this city the same way Bruce is. He also happens to be the richest man on the East Coast. A lot of people think if they pretend to be nice to me, we’ll become good friends or something, and they'll benefit from Bruce’s success. It's another problem I have when it comes to socializing; I don't know when someone's being real with me or not.

  
“Mr. Willer, Richard Grayson is here to see you.” Ms. Donnell says into the phone, and then hangs up with a click. The door to the right opens not a second later, and a tall man with a receding hairline and worry lines steps out. He flashes me a friendly smile when he spots me.

  
“Mr. Grayson, it's a pleasure, truly! I'm Mr. Willer, your new principle.” He says joyfully.

  
“It's nice to meet you, Sir.” I respond, then follow Mr. Willer into his office. He closes the door behind me, and an awful memory comes to mind. A memory of Bruce leading me into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me, and then giving me this hungry smile as he towers over me. I shiver at the image in my head. Now is not the time to be thinking about Bruce. I need to keep it together for at least today.

  
I shut my eyes tightly and open them again as I flop down in the chair in front of Mr. Willer’s desk. Mr. Willer sits down behind his desk. The smile on his face seems to be a permanent fixture.

  
Mr. Willer pushes a glass bowl of chocolate kisses towards me. “Would you like one?”

  
I'm hesitant to take one. Bruce doesn't allow me to eat chocolate, and if he somehow found out that I ate some he would get really angry with me. Angry Bruce is the worst kind of Bruce. That's ridiculous though, right? How would Bruce even know I ate one? Still, I'm not taking my chances. Bruce has a way of finding out about everything.

  
“No thank you, and you can call me Dick. Everyone does.” I say. Mr. Willer raises an eyebrow at me before nodding. I get that response a lot when I tell people my name. I notice he leaves the glass bowl where it is.

  
“I just wanted to tell you what an honor it is for you to have chosen our school to attend. Mr. Wayne has been so good to us here. We just love the new library he donated last year. You are very lucky to have such a generous and inspiring guardian.” Mr. Willer says. My hand grips the armchair hard when he says how lucky I am. I have to stop myself from telling Mr. Willer how wrong he really is.

  
“Yes, Bruce is very generous with his money.” I say with a nod. It's the only true thing Mr. Willer has said about Bruce so far.

  
“Yes, well onto business then.” The principle says as he turns in his chair to get something out of file cabinet. My hand shoots out to grab a chocolate kiss from the bowl, which I quickly stuff it into my pants pocket. Mr. Willer turns back around to face me with a packet in his hand and hands it over to me.

  
“We have block scheduling here, so that means you have four classes in the winter semester and four different classes in the spring semester. Each class is eighty-five minutes long, and you have lunch after your first two classes. Lunch is forty-five minutes long and all the grades eat lunch at the same time. In addition to the cafeteria, tables are set up in the gym and in the halls so everyone has a place to sit. Stapled to your schedule is a map of the school. The first floor is where all the middle school grade classrooms are. The high school grade classrooms are located on the second floor. That's about all there is to it. Do you have any questions?”

  
I try to look calm and collected, but on the inside, I am completely freaking out. Everything just sounds too hard, it's too much, and I can't handle this. I can't do this.

  
Bruce isn't here, and I need Bruce here to help me through this. If Bruce was here he would talk to Mr. Willer for me, and all I would have to do is sit here and wait. If Bruce was here he would take me by the shoulder, walk me to each class, tell me to sit up straight and pay attention, and I would because it's Bruce and Bruce knows what's best. He's not here though, and that means I have to make my own choices and go at this all alone, and I'm not capable of that. I can't make my own choices. I'm too young to know what the right choice is. I need Bruce to do that for me.

  
“Oh, um, n-no. I don't think so.” I stutter, suddenly remembering that Mr. Willer is waiting for an answer. He smiles at me, and turns back around to get something out of a drawer. I grab another handful of chocolate kisses, and push them into my now stuffed pocket. With the way Bruce watches me I might never be able to have chocolate ever again, so I might as well take advantage of the situation.

  
“I'm writing you a late slip because homeroom started ten minutes ago and we can't have you marked tardy on your first day, can we?” Mr. Willer asks as he turns back to face me, and fills out a blue slip. He hands it to me, and I take it without looking at it. He stands up and I know I am dismissed. I grab my schedule as Mr. Willer opens his front door.

  
“I'll walk you to your homeroom. It could be hard to find your classes on your first day.” My new principle says, and I thank him gratefully. I can handle following Mr. Willer to class; it's another thing entirely if I have to find the room by myself. I can barely do anything by myself.

  
I follow Mr. Willer down the quiet, empty hall. I should be paying attention to how we’re getting to the class so I know for later, but all I can think about is Bruce. I miss him so much already. I wish he was here with me. I at least wish that I was back at the Manor; the only place that I'm familiar with anymore. I don't know where anything is in this building, and I don't know anyone! If Bruce was here I wouldn't feel this way. If Bruce was here I wouldn't have to worry about not knowing anything, because Bruce would know what to do. He always does.

  
Before I know it, we have stopped at a door and I can't do anything to stop Mr. Willer from opening it. He steps out of the way to let me in, and my feet drag across the floor as I enter the room. The last thing I see of Mr. Willer is that silly smile plastered on his face as he closes the door. There's no getting out now.

  
The room is loud with chatter, and I'm thankful that no one is paying enough attention to notice me. The teacher, a twenty something year old with golden skin and a youthful face, stands up from her desk as I enter the room. She smiles sweetly at me, and I struggle to respond in kind. I begin to chew on my lower lip, and my hands are shaking from nerves as I hand her the late pass.

  
“You must be Richard,” she says. “I'm Ms. Andrews, your homeroom teacher. It is my understanding that you've been home schooled up until today?”

  
I nod, too afraid to talk. I shove my hands into my pockets so people won't notice the shaking.

  
“I can only imagine how scared you must be. I just want you to know that if you ever have any questions, my door is always open. Even if you think you think it might be a stupid question, I'd be more than happy to help.” Ms. Andrews says sincerely. Mrs. Donnall said almost the exact same thing earlier, but the way Ms. Andrews says it sounds a lot more genuine.

  
“I appreciate it, thank you.” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. I think I like Ms. Andrews; she seems really kind. Then again, Bruce seemed kind when I first met him too, and he was for a while. Everyone wears a mask though, and eventually I saw what was under Bruce Wayne’s. Who says this woman is any different?

  
“Everyone settle down! I have a short announcement to make.” Ms. Andrews calls over the students. Slowly, the students turn their attention to the teacher and then their eyes land on me.

  
It is terrifying. At least twenty kids are watching me and making snap judgements, looking me over top to bottom. Their eyes sparkle with interest, some of the girls giving me flirty smiles. I hear someone whisper about how I'm cuter then my pictures in the news, and my stomach drops as I realize that these people already know who I am. They know I'm Bruce Wayne’s ward without Ms. Andrews even saying my name, and that realization just makes everything worse.

  
“This is our new student, Richard Grayson. I expect every single one of you to welcome him with open arms.”

  
“Dick is fine.” I say automatically. Ms. Andrews looks taken back, her hand fluttering to her chest. I hear a couple of kids snicker.

  
“Excuse me?” She asks, and I rush to explain.

  
“People call me Dick. It's short for Richard.”

  
“Oh yes, of course. Sorry about that.” She says, her cheeks reddening. At least I'm not the only one who is embarrassed now. “You can take that empty seat in the back.”

  
I try not to run to my seat, eager to escape the attention. I can feel all their eyes following me as I collapse into my chair, pulling off my backpack and holding it tightly to my chest. Everyone is just openly staring at me, some kids whispering behind their hands. I wish a black hole would appear below me right now and just swallow me whole. Then I wouldn't have people gawking at me like I'm some exotic animal at the zoo.

A loud bell suddenly goes off, startling me. There's a loud clatter as students gather their things and rush out of the classroom.

  
“So you’re the great Richard Grayson the newspapers are constantly going on about!"” A girl says, appearing out of nowhere with a flick of her midnight black hair. I take a step back, uncomfortable with how close we're standing. She gives me this wide grin full of sparkling white teeth as her hand lightly touches my shoulder. I don't like people touching me. The only person who touches me is Bruce, and it almost always leads to something bad.

  
“Uh, yeah, that's me.” I answer. The girl slides her hand down my arm to my hand, intertwining our fingers. That's exactly the type of thing Bruce would do. My breath quickens as she bumps her shoulder against mine.

  
“I'm Hazel, and I’m going to be your tour guide.” The girl tells me, and then she's pulling me towards the door before I even have a chance to respond.

 

**************

 

After spending a good ten humiliating minutes trying to open my locker until a teacher had to come by and help me, I find myself entering the cafeteria. The morning has passed, and I still feel like I'm going to be sick. Having Hazel by my side the whole time, talking nonstop, didn't help either. It turns out we have all the same morning classes, and she made it her mission to make sure everyone knew who I was.

  
"This is Dick Grayson. You know Dick, right? His pictures are everywhere. He's Bruce Wayne's ward; Gotham City's youngest celebrity. We're friends." She would say to anyone who so much as glanced at me. This only brought me more unwanted attention, and the more she introduced me, the more I felt like I was shrinking with fear. I thought maybe things would get easier as the day went on, but it's only getting harder. I don't think I'm cut out for regular school. I'm not cut out for anything without Bruce by my side.

  
The teachers keep talking about all these tests, reports, and homework that I have to focus on, and maybe I'd be able to do that if it wasn't for all the other students. I can constantly hear them talking about me. I try to stay still as much as possible in class so there's less of a chance that I'll do something stupid, but then I overhear someone say how weird it is that I haven't moved a muscle in the last twenty minutes. I never do anything right.

  
This cafeteria might be the worst place of them all though. There are people absolutely everywhere, and I'm standing here like an idiot by myself. I have my brown bagged lunch in a tight grip, my book bag hung over one shoulder, and I have no idea where I'm supposed to sit. Each table is like an exclusive club that you need a special invitation to join.

  
"There you are! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to ditch me." Hazel bounces over to me, bravely grabbing my free hand and swinging it back and forth. She gives me a flirty smile, her face inches away from mine.

  
I was trying to lose her; Hazel keeps touching me, invading my personal space, and is obviously just hanging out with me because I'm Bruce's ward. She's just making me more uncomfortable than I already am, and that's really saying something.

  
"Of course not." I say. I curl my lips upward in an effort to smile, but I think it resembles more of a grimace. Hazel doesn't seem to notice though.

  
"Good. You can sit at my lunch table. I have to introduce you to all of my friends. They're awesome." She says, and then Hazel is skipping away, dragging me by my hand. While Hazel has been making things worse for me all day, I am relieved to have somewhere to sit. If it wasn't for her I would probably have just stood in that one spot for the entire lunch period.

  
The lunch table Hazel leads me to is out in the hallway, and it's jam packed with both boys and girls. Hazel repeatedly hits one of her friends in the shoulder with a notebook until they move to make room for the two of us. I squeeze in beside her, unraveling my paper bag and keeping my eyes down.

  
"For everyone I haven't seen this morning, this is Richard Grayson, but he prefers to be called Dick." Hazel begins, catching everyone's attention as soon as she says my name. One boy snorts when she says my name. "You guys know Dick. He's the ward of Bruce Wayne. You know, the multibillionaire Bruce Wayne who owns Wayne Enterprises?"

  
Hazel flips her hair over her shoulder, a satisfied smirk on her face. I pull out a ham and cheese sandwich from my bag and start to unravel the saran wrap it's in. I look up briefly to give everyone a quick smile before directing my attention back to my lunch. I know I'm coming off as rude, but I just can't handle looking at all those strange faces right now. There's only one face I want to see and he's not here.

  
"You are sooooo lucky to be adopted by Bruce Wayne!" One girl starts, her eyes taking on this dreamy look. "He is just so gorgeous. If I was adopted by Bruce Wayne he would totally fall madly in love with me, and we would have this romantic, tabooed love affair. It would be amazing!"

  
My sandwich falls out of my hands in response. I eye her for a moment before coming to the conclusion that the girl is nuts. She does make one good point though, and that is that Bruce is really good looking. Between his crystal blue eyes, jet black hair, strong jaw, and muscular build, Bruce looks like he can be a movie star.

  
"That's disgusting Alice. The guy's like thirty!" One boy comments. I shove my sandwich down my throat as an excuse not to join the conversation.

  
"Wayne isn't thirty! He's twenty-five. My dad works for Wayne Enterprises so I know." Someone chimes in.

  
"Hey Dick, we should exchange cell numbers, that way we can text whenever you want." Hazel says, taking her phone out of her bag. I swallow my food quickly so I can answer.

  
"I don't have a cell phone." I say. Hazel drops her phone at this, her eyes wide and mouth open in surprise. With the looks everyone else is giving me, you'd think I just announced that I spend my night as a vigilante protecting Gotham.

  
"Are you serious?" Hazel asks.

  
"Wayne is super rich, how do you not have a phone?"

  
"My whole life is on my phone. How do you live?"

  
"Bruce thinks I'm too young to have a phone. He doesn't want me to be one of those people who have their face in their phone all day." I explain. At least that's the reason Bruce gives me whenever I ask him about it, but I know the real reason why he won't get me a phone. A phone means power, and Bruce doesn't like me to have any power. It's also why I don't have a key to the Manor.

  
"Well that's...strange." Hazel says. A couple of kids nod in agreement and I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It's not like I need a phone. I don't have any friends I want to text anyway. There's only two people I interact with and they live with me.

  
"I hear Bruce Wayne invites a bunch of female and male models over for massive orgies all the time. Is that true Dick?" A boy with greasy hair and a pointy nose asks. I open and close my mouth, shocked that he would ask me such an outlandish question.

  
"Eww, that so gross!" Hazel exclaims.

  
"Does he let you join in? I bet you he does!" The same boy continues. My brain stops at his words, and I can feel the food I just ate coming back up my throat. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

  
"Of course Bruce Wayne doesn't let Dick have orgies with him! That's awful and illegal! Only a monster would have sex with a child, and Bruce Wayne is not a monster!" Yep, the sandwhich is definitely coming back up.

  
"Hello, he's Bruce fucking Wayne. He practically owns this city. He can do whatever he wants."

  
I can't handle this anymore. I can't handle them talking about Bruce having sex with me. Can they read the truth on my face? Oh my god, they know, don't they? They all know!

  
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god-  
"Dick?" Hazel asks as I bolt out of my seat and run towards the nearest bathroom, hand clutched over mouth.  
Now I'm really embarrassed.

 

 

 


	4. Holding Tightly

Once in the limo, I hug my knees to my chest, my eyes closed as I slowly begin to relax. I know Alfred is watching me through the rearview mirror, studying me so he could report back to Bruce. Good, I want him to tell Bruce how distressed and anxious Gotham Academy made me. I want Bruce to see what an awful idea this was.

  
After I had vomited out my guts earlier, I had quickly made my way to the nurse’s office where I told the nurse that I had just thrown up and that I think I might have a stomach virus. She then proceeded to call Bruce who then sent Alfred here to pick me up because he was too caught up at work.

  
I know I don't have a stomach virus, Bruce knows I don't have a virus, and so does Alfred. The unspoken truth is that I am just not capable of getting through one day of school by myself. How pathetic am I?

  
While a small part of me does feel bad about pretending to be sick to get out of school, I mostly just feel a great relief to be out of there. I don't want to go back to that place ever again.

  
“Did you manage to hold down any of your lunch?” Alfred asks, breaking the silence.

  
“I don't think so.” I say, burying my face in my knees in shame.

  
“Hmm, that's what I thought. Master Bruce has given me instructions to make you a bowl of soup when we get home. As soon as we get there, you are to stay in your school uniform, get into his bed, and rest until he comes for you.” He explains. I swallow loudly, imagining all the reasons why Bruce would want me in his bed and in uniform. Probably so he can call me his "little schoolboy" again. I'm not looking forward to it, but I'd rather be at home in Bruce’s bed than back at that terrible school.

  
Soon enough we’re at the Manor, and as soon as Alfred opens the front door I race up the stairs to Bruce’s bedroom. All I want to do is go to sleep and forget that this day ever happened. I know the way to Bruce’s room like the back of my hand; I am all too familiar with that part of the house.

  
I tuck in under the soft blankets of his bed, snuggling down deep into the pillows. I breathe in and am overwhelmed with the scent of Bruce, which instantly makes me think of one thing. Home.

  
Before I can fall asleep there's a quiet knock on the door and Alfred enters the room carrying a tray. I sit up and he places the tray onto my lap, then leaves me alone to eat and rest. The chicken noodle soup is hot as it goes down my throat and warms my stomach. I smile to myself as I sip, enjoying the deliciousness of the food and the softness of the bed. After I've finished the soup, I place the tray on the floor, and pull the blankets over my head to finally get some sleep. It’s not even five minutes later that I've fallen into a dreamless slumber.

 

  
*****************

 

  
Gentle hands cup my face as I slowly open my eyes. The room is significantly darker. I have trouble seeing the person pressed against my side, but I don't need to see them to know who it is. There's only one person it could possibly be. His thumb strokes my cheek, his lips inches away from my neck. When Bruce notices that I'm awake, he pulls back to give me a soft smile.

  
“You looked so peaceful sleeping I didn't want to wake you.” Bruce breathes, and then tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. His eyes seem to gleam in the darkness. The way he's looking at me, it’s almost like he’s in a trance.

  
“What time is it?” I ask, trying to wiggle my body free from his. Bruce just presses closer, and I can feel something hard against leg.

  
“Late.” Is the only answer I get. Ever so slowly, he brushes his lips against mine before pressing harder. My mouth opens in response, our tongues meeting and intertwining. I groan loudly into Bruce’s mouth as his body starts to rock against mine.   
He pulls away from the kiss with a gasp, and my arms wrap around his strong back, holding on for dear life.

  
“I missed you.” The words spill out of my mouth before I even have time to think what they mean. I pull my arms back, shutting my eyes so I don't have to see his reaction. Regret overwhelms me. I can't believe I said that out loud to him. It's one thing to think it, but it's an entirely different thing to say it. I know why I missed him at school today, but it doesn't make it okay. I shouldn't feel this way.

  
I cover my face with my hands, but Bruce tugs them away, his eyes meeting mine. A slow grin grows on his face, his whole expression lighting up like carved pumpkin when you put a candle in it. I bite my lower lip anxiously as I wait for him to say something.

  
“I missed you too. I always miss you when we’re apart.” Bruce whispers, and then he's kissing me again, his fingers running through my hair and tugging hard. I whimper in pain, but this just seems to spur Bruce on more. Bruce dominates our kiss, biting down on my lip and licking the roof of my mouth. He covers my body with his, boxing me in. He grinds down hard.  
My body betrays me with how it reacts, my feet coming up to press against his back in an effort to get closer. His hands slip under my clothes, squeezing and pulling on my skin all too roughly. I don't know what to feel. Everything just feels so good and I don't want him to stop, but at the same time I know none of this is right.

  
Without warning, Bruce pulls away breathing heavily. He runs his hand down his face as he rolls off me and onto his back. I'm not sure what's going on. Bruce isn't one to deny himself what he wants. He sits up and turns on the nearest lamp. I push myself into a sitting position, ignoring how disheveled my clothes are. Bruce watches me with that same intense look he always wears.

  
“What happened today Dick?” He asks. I keep my eyes downcast, not knowing how to answer the question. Bruce gently takes my hand and intertwines our fingers, lowering his head so he could look at me properly. “I know you’re not actually sick, so please explain to me what happened. I promise to not get angry with you. I love you, Dick.”

  
I gaze up at him, seeing nothing but genuine care on his face. I press my lips together for a moment before I go ahead and tell him everything that happened today. I tell him about how I almost cried when I entered the school, how I felt like I was going to be sick from the moment I woke up this morning, how everyone stared and whispered the whole time, how the teachers were giving me all this schoolwork and how overwhelming that was for me. I tell him about Hazel and how she touched me and the way she introduced me to everyone. Finally, I tell him about the lunch and what the kids were saying about him and how it just made everything a hundred times worse, and that's when I got sick. I tell Bruce how I hated it there and how embarrassed and ashamed I am, and how I don't think I could ever go back. I tell him that I'm just not cut out for regular school.

  
“I can't do this without you Bruce. I can't do anything without you. I need you. I needed you there.” I finish, tears streaming down my face like little rivers. Bruce pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms tightly around me. I hold onto him as tightly as possible and press my face against his broad chest. This moment right here; this feels right. I feel safe and comforted and warm. This feels like the Bruce I knew from when I was nine years old. This feels like the Bruce that would never hurt me.

  
“I knew this would happen.” Bruce murmurs as he gently strokes my back. I rub my face against his soft shirt as my tears come to an end. “I'm sorry that happened to you and I know you won't understand, but you had to go through this. It was important for you to go into a strange environment by yourself and realize the one thing I've known from the very beginning; that you need me. You needed to realize that you can't do these things by yourself, but that's okay because I'll always be here for you, Dick. We’ll be together forever, I promise.”

  
I look up at him in surprise and anger. Bruce knew I would fail at regular school and yet he still made me go? He purposely sent me to school just so I would realize how dependent I am on him?! What kind of person does that? I try to pull away from him, but Bruce just holds on tighter.

  
“Just listen, okay? You don't ever have to go back there. You humiliated yourself in front of all those kids because you couldn't keep it together when they started talking about some stupid rumors! You're pathetic and useless, but I still love you more than anything else in the world. You're all that matters to me and I will always take care of you. I love you, Dick. I love you so much. Everything I do is because I love you. Don't you see that?”

  
The feeling of misery overwhelms me when I realize that everything Bruce has said up to this point is right. I can't do anything without Him. I am pathetic and useless. These thoughts have been haunting me for a long time, but to hear them come from Bruce himself just confirms them. On top of all of that, I will never be rid of Bruce. I am going to spend the rest of my life with a monster.

  
Bruce tilts my head up with a hand to my chin, watching me intensely. He runs his fingers over my lips. He dips down to catch my lips in a passionate kiss, his strong arms readjusting my body so that I'm straddling his lap. I barely respond, my brain still wrapping around all this new and awful information. I don't even notice when Bruce grabs my waist. His hands find their way to my pocket, and his movements come to an abrupt stop.

  
Bruce rips his mouth away from mine as he pulls something out of my pocket. He looks away from me to see what it is, and I can feel my heart drop to my feet. In Bruce’s hand are the chocolate kisses from Mr. Willer’s office.

  
“Is this...chocolate?” Bruce asks, his voice tightening with anger. I can see the fire coming to life in his eyes as he shifts his gaze from the candy to my face. I try to respond, but I'm too frozen with fear to say anything. “You know you’re not allowed to have chocolate.”

  
“The p-principal had a bowl and he offered some to me. I haven't had any yet, I swear. I just thought that-”

  
“You thought hat you would go behind my back and disobey me?” Bruce snaps. I cringe in fear at the tone of his voice.

  
“No, never! It's just chocolate! It's not a big deal!”

 

In one quick movement Bruce pulls his fist back and hits me hard against the side of my head.

 

It feels like a grenade exploding inside my brain. I collapse onto my side, everything going black for half a second. The world is spinning as I look up at Bruce, a horrified expression coming over his face. It's as if he's just realized what he's done. He violently grabs me and pulls me close, his arms holding me in an impenetrable grip. I don't understand. There's a slight ringing in my head, and the whole room is still spinning.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Bruce repeats over and over again. He presses his face against my neck, rocking back and forth. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”  
He continues to apologize long into the night until I've fallen asleep in his strong arms.

 

 

 


	5. Stockholm Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking that instead of doing one huge story arc, I would do many small story arcs. Kind of like a comic book series. Chapters one through four were the first story arc and chapter five starts the second story arc. That way this is a continuing story. What do you guys think?

The next morning at breakfast Alfred serves me a Belgian waffle with fresh strawberries and bacon. It's my favorite breakfast he makes and it's how I know that Bruce is trying to make up for what he did last night.

  
This morning I expected to wake up entangled with Bruce, but I woke up alone in a cold bed. While I should have been happy about this, all I felt was disappointed. I don't want to think about what that could mean. Ribbons of pain slice mercilessly through my temple and into my brain. I rub at my forehead, dropping my fork and laying my head down on the table.  
“What's wrong?” Bruce asks in a concerned tone.

  
“My head. It feels like screws are being twisted into my brain.” I mumble. Reluctantly, I sit back up, slowly picking up my fork again. Bruce looks like he's in pain as he watches me, the newspaper he was reading forgotten on the table.

  
I look over at the paper. It's opened to a picture of Bruce at a party with a pretty lady on his arm. The headline reads, “Bruce Wayne In Love with Socialite Silver St. Cloud?” Bruce catches me reading the paper and quickly snatches it away and out of sight.

  
I don't know what the big deal is. Bruce dates a new girl every week. He's Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor and he takes advantage of it Every time I see a newspaper or magazine there’s an image of Bruce with a woman fawning all over him. None of them ever mean anything. Bruce has never mentioned one to me. It's one of the many parts of his life that he keeps a secret. I can't even figure out if he's attracted to them or if it's all just for appearances. I guess someone can be into both genders, but I've never really thought of Bruce being attracted to both men and women. It's more like he’s into women and me.

  
Bruce ignores the comment about my headache. We both know why I have a massive headache and a purple bump on the side of my head, but he would rather pretend it never happened. I'm okay with that. I would like to forget it happened too.

  
“I'm giving Alfred the night off. I have something planned for the two of us.” He says, changing the subject. I eye him suspiciously as I chew on some bacon.

  
“It's something fun. Something we've never done together. I'm only giving Alfred off because of how hard he's been working lately.” Bruce explains. I focus my attention back to my breakfast. Bruce’s definition of fun is very different from mine. He thinks holding me down and shoving his dick up my ass is fun. Naturally, I am not looking forward to tonight.

  
Bruce pushes his chair back and stands up, announcing that he has to get to work. I swallow down my last bite, nodding in response. I begin to shake as he approaches me. He leans down to lightly brush his lips against mine. I wait for him to give me a real kiss, but all I get is a whisper of one.

  
“Be a good boy for Alfred today. I'll see you tonight.” He whispers in my ear. I watch him leave, feeling like a piece of my heart is going with him.

 

  
**************

 

  
I spend the morning and most of the afternoon doing schoolwork with Alfred. I can tell he's disappointed that he still has to homeschool me. It's all my fault. If I wasn't such a sad excuse for a person then maybe I would be able to get through a full day of school.

Textbooks, binders, and notebooks are spread all over the table. We go over factoring equations in Algebra. I fill out a worksheet of them, and then Alfred checks it over and helps me correct my mistakes.

  
In English, I'm learning about Greek mythology. Today I read a story about Hades, God of the Underworld, and his wife Persephone. The story goes that he saw the goddess one day picking flowers, fell for her, and proceeded to rape and kidnap her. She wanted to go back home to her mother Demeter, but because Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds that came from the underworld, she was forced to stay there. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest, and because her daughter had been taken from her, the crops died and the earth grew cold. Zeus decided that Persephone would spend six months with her mother and spend the other six months of the year with Hades.

  
In many versions of the story, Persephone came to love Hades as much he loved her. That's the real tragedy. He had treated her so horribly and taken everything from her and she forgave him. What did she see in that monster? Was there something worth loving under all that cruelness? I ask Alfred these questions, but he just gives me a sympathetic look.

  
"If Hades really did love her, why did he rape her and take her away from her family?" I practically growl in anger. Can you genuinely love someone when they've hurt you so much? Does Bruce really love me even though he hurts me?

  
We end the school day there, Alfred sending me off to my bedroom. Instead of doing as Alfred says, I make my way to Bruce's office. I sit at his beautifully furnished desk and turn on his Wayne Tech. laptop. I don't have my own way of accessing the Internet. Again, internet means power, and Bruce always goes out of his was to make sure I never have any of that. Sometimes when he's at work and Alfred is too busy cleaning, I'll sneak into his office and use his computer. I spent years trying to figure out his password until eight months ago when I finally cracked it. I felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. The password was my full name.

  
I go into Google and type in the words, "Can you fall in love with someone who has kidnapped you?" I can't get the Hades and Persephone myth out of my head. Something about the story resonates with me. I think I might be able to relate to Persephone. I think Bruce might be my Hades. Unlike Persephone though I am not in love with Bruce. How can I be? He hits me, forces me to do things I don't feel comfortable doing, and purposely puts me into situations I'll fail just so he can prove a point. That's not love.

  
At least, I don't think it's love. Bruce says all the time that he loves me. Everything he does, he does because he loves me. Maybe I'm being too hard on him. I tell myself that Bruce has sex with me just because he wants to, regardless on how it makes me feel. By believing this, I am ignoring what Bruce has been telling me over and over again since the beginning. I am a child; too young to know what's right or wrong. Bruce is the adult and he's only looking out for my best interests. So maybe when he does fuck me he's not doing it for himself as much as he is doing it for me. Bruce says the bruises all over my body is a sign of how much he loves me. Is having sex with me another way for Bruce to show me how much he loves me? That would make the sex a good thing.

  
This is just too confusing and it makes my head hurt even more than it already does. I turn my attention back to the Internet. A link for something called Stockholm Syndrome comes up and I click on it.

  
According to the site, Stockholm Syndrome is a physiological condition which causes a hostage to become sympathetic towards their captor. Often the victim will develop romantic feelings toward their captor. I continue to read the article, all of this sounding awfully familiar. I learn that Stockholm Syndrome is a coping mechanism the victim will develop to survive their situation. It doesn't just happen to someone being kept hostage either. It can happen to prostitutes, concentration camp prisoners, slaves, and victims of child abuse.

  
I realize that Persephone might have suffered from Stockholm Syndrome. Bruce and I seem to have a lot in common with Hades and Persephone, so what does that say about us?

  
I am so absorbed in my research that I don't even realize how dark the office gets or how many hours tick by. When I finally do look at the clock, I panic. Bruce will be home any minute and he cannot find me breaking anymore of his rules. The punishment will only be worse than last night's.

  
I quickly rush to delete the recent browser history and turn off the laptop. I make sure to leave everything exactly as I found it before running up to my bedroom. I rarely use my bedroom anymore. It's mostly become the place where I keep my clothes and sometimes hang out. I sleep almost every night in Bruce's bed.

  
My head is killing me and looking at the bright light of the computer for so long has only made it worse. I know Bruce will be home soon, but I'm not exactly sure when. Alfred must have taken off a while ago because I haven't seen him since we finished school. This isn't abnormal. If Alfred doesn't have to talk to me he won't.

  
The Manor is dark and quiet. I flop down onto my bed in exhaustion. I am so sleepy and I don't really know why. Obviously the headache is part of the reason, but there's more to it then that. I always find myself tired no matter how many hours of sleep I get. It's so easy for me to just lay down and take a nap.

  
My head hits the pillow and everything begins to fade away....

 

  
****************

 

 

I wake up to hand stroking my cheek. Bruce is standing over me. He looks at me with admiring eyes and a gentle smile.

  
"When did you get home?" I ask with a yawn. Bruce sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing the hair out of my face.

  
"Just now. I wanted to be home sooner, but there was a work crisis." He explains.

  
"What happened?" I ask curiously.

  
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. I handled it." He says casually. I sigh loudly with frustration.

  
"You never tell me anything about your work." I whine, crawling towards him and pulling at his arm. Bruce chuckles, embracing me and pulling me onto his lap.

  
"I don't tell you anything about work because you shouldn't have to concern yourself with those kind of things. It's my job to take care of you, not the other way around." He explains with a kiss to my forehead. He stands up, carrying me bridal style. "Now come on, I have something special planned for us."

  
Bruce carries me out into the hall and down the stairs. I'm surprised when he takes me into the kitchen. The only person who ever goes into the kitchen is Alfred. He sits me down on the kitchen island next to a bag of groceries. He stands so close to me that our legs press against each other's. I stay still as Bruce bends down to lightly kiss my mouth. He is slow and gentle. Our lips move against one another's in perfect harmony. I grab his shirt collar to pull him closer. I feel Bruce smile against my lips before moving away.

  
"My father always worked too hard." He begins. This really must be something special because Bruce never talks about his parents with me. I know he witnessed them being murdered in an alley when he was eight, but Bruce doesn't talk about it and I don't blame him. I don't like talking about my parents' death either. "But sometimes he would take the night off and we would do this thing called 'Everything But The Kitchen Sink'. What we did is we would make this huge ice cream sundae and then put on every topping we could find in the kitchen. I used to love it."

  
Bruce half smiles, his eyes glazing over. I try to imagine a little Bruce in this kitchen with his father eating ice cream. It's a happy thought.

  
"I wanted to do that with you tonight. You've been having a rough couple of days and I thought a little fun would be good for you. The problem is that we don't have anything even resembling junk food in this house. So after work I stopped by the grocery store to get us some ingredients."

  
I grin with excitement as Bruce begins to empty the bag of groceries. We haven't done something like this since I was first adopted. I haven't been able to have ice cream since then. I watch as he pulls out two cartons of vanilla and chocolate ice cream. It's followed by whip cream, peanut butter cups, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, and chocolate chips. I'm practically vibrating with eagerness. This is something I never expected Bruce to want to do.

  
"So what do you think?" Bruce asks with a smile. My own smile is equally as large.

  
"I think this is the best idea you've ever had." This is definitely a gesture of Bruce's love for me.

  
He laughs and we start on our ice cream sundae creation. We fill a large bowl up to the rim with ice cream. Half of it is chocolate and the other half vanilla. We sprinkle on the peanut butter cups and chocolate chips. Bruce mixes it all together so the toppings don't just sit on the top. I add several spoonfuls of peanut butter and Bruce pours on the chocolate syrup. I'm generous with the whip cream, putting mounds and mounds on the top. The more whip cream the merrier! We laugh the entire time.

  
Once our masterpiece is complete we dig in. Bruce and I take our time, enjoying the ice cream and the sugary combination of all the toppings. I close my eyes as the cold cream goes down my throat, groaning deeply in pleasure. Bruce watches me with an amused expression.

  
"This is way better then I remember." He says, scooping out some chocolate chips and peanut butter cups. I nod in agreement.

  
"This might be my most favorite thing we have ever done." I declare. Bruce looks up at me and his whole face glows with happiness.

  
"You know what this reminds me of? That time when you were nine and we went to Ice Cream Palace." Bruce says. I smile at the memory.

  
"I remember that. That place was so cool! They had, like, a billion different flavors, and the sundaes were so huge there. We couldn't even finish ours!" I remark.

  
"You had such a bad stomachache that I had to carry you out."

  
"I couldn't even make it up the stairs." I say through my laughter. Bruce shakes his head.

  
"It's not that you couldn't walk up the stairs. It's that you didn't want to." Bruce answers. "You were always looking for reasons for me to carry you back then."

  
"Yeah, I was." I say thoughtfully. Things were so much easier back then. I knew I could trust Bruce with anything. My body didn't go into hyperactive mode every time Bruce entered the room. I was able to fall asleep on his bed without having to worry. I wish we could go back to that. I wish I could trust Bruce again.

  
Bruce scoops up the last of the ice cream and offers it to me. I take the spoon from him and swallow it down. I lick at my lips. Bruce smiles and leans over, guiding my face towards his. His lips are cold from the ice cream when he kisses me. He tastes like peanut butter and chocolate.

  
The whole night has just been so absolutely perfect that I feel like I'm going to cry. I'm so happy that I even forgot about my awful headache. I want every day to be like this. I'm enjoying his kisses without shame. The way his lips touch mine make me feel so loved and cared for. I think back to the Persephone and Hades story. She was able to find some sort of happiness with Hades, so maybe I can find the same with Bruce. I should at least try.

  
Bruce pulls my face closer, kissing me harder. I know where this is going, and I'm going to try to be okay with it. He's doing this because he loves me. I need to start trusting Bruce again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Our Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really starting to think this is some of the worst writing ever. Also, I now have a new tumblr if you guys would like to follow me at thatcomicgirl52.tumblr.com. I'll be blogging comic related stuff there. You can ask me any questions there and please just come and talk to me about comics.

He throws me onto the bed like I'm a rag doll, his expression one of hungry eyes and a wicked grin. I breathe heavily and wiggle against the comforter. My whole body hums with excitement and for once I don't feel like I’m doing something wrong. This is happening because Bruce loves me. He’s doing this for me, therefore I shouldn’t feel ashamed about how my body reacts. Bruce tackles me, pinning my arms down and kissing me deeply. He dominates the kiss and it lights my whole body on fire.

  
"You taste like peanut butter cups." He whispers against my lips. I drag my hands down his back, pulling at his ruffled shirt. I need to feel more of that skin that I am so familiar with. Bruce sits up to hastily unbutton his shirt and rips it off, throwing it somewhere across the room. My own shirt quickly follows.

  
He pulls me against him and gives me a dominating kiss before biting down hard on my lip. I can taste the saltiness of my blood before Bruce licks it away. His skin is hot against mine. He nips and licks at my neck as I begin to rut against him. Our groins rub against each other's and I can feel how hard he is inside his slacks. His cock presses against my clothed hole.

  
“I need, I need, I need-”

  
“What do you need my sweet boy?” Bruce whispers innocently, kissing his way down my torso. Every touch feels like a tidal wave. I can barely form words. When he gets to my waist, Bruce fingers the zipper of my pants. I watch him greedily as Bruce looks up at me with a smirk. “Do you need these off?”

  
“Yes! God, Bruce, yes!” I shout. I’m not thinking about what I'm saying. I’m only listening to my body’s needs and wants, and right now, all my body wants is Bruce everywhere.

  
He lets out a dark chuckle, undoing the zipper of my pants at a painfully slow pace. I whimper as Bruce lowers my jeans and briefs in one swift motion. My cock stands up, hard and wanting. His hands brush against the inside of my thighs and I start to shake with anticipation. My hands reach out to clutch at the bedsheets as Bruce's fingers brush dangerously close to my cock.

  
“Beg for it.” He whispers. I shut my eyes tightly at his words, his deep voice sending tingles down my spine. I open my eyes and look down at Bruce. He’s eyeing my cock with a great thirst. I can’t stand it. “I said beg for it.”

  
“Please touch me Bruce! I'll do anything, I swear! I need you. I need you inside me now!” I beg. He flashes me this wide grin and suddenly I feel something warm and moist around my dick. He doesn't even do anything before I'm coming into his mouth, moaning and groaning the whole way. He swallows it all down without a problem and let's go of my dick with a soft pop.

  
“So eager.” Bruce comments. My cock is already starting to get hard again as Bruce finally rids himself of his own pants and boxers. I can see his thick and overwhelming erection spring up. I can't wait to have him inside me, claiming me, owning me. This trusting Bruce and listening to my body thing is amazing. I should have done this ages ago.

  
He pulls and grabs at my skin harshly, lining his cock up against my anus. No, no, no. This isn't what comes next. He hasn't prepared me down there at all. My body goes into panic mode. I try to scramble away from him, but he's too strong. Bruce forces my legs to spread wider. It feels like I'm being crushed under his weight. Our foreheads press against each other, our breathes mixing together. Our eyes meet and I swear Bruce is looking right into my soul.

  
“I’m not ready Bruce. It’s going to hurt.” I struggle to say. I can feel his cock nudging against my entrance. He cups my face lovingly and looks at me as if I've just lassoed the moon.

  
“I love you, Dick.” He whispers against my lips before giving me a searing kiss. His cock is in me with one great thrust. It feels just as rough as the first time he did this two years ago. There is something huge, thick, and warm splitting me into two and I want it out right now. His dick rubs against my dry skin causing an unbearable burn. I scream in pain, my hands gripping the sheets with all my might and pulling. Bruce thrusts in and out as I begin to cry, but it's like he can't hear me. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back as he lets out a deep groan.

  
“You’re so tight baby. You’re always so tight, so perfect. God, I love you.” He grunts as he continues. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to imagine that I'm anywhere else but here, but it’s impossible to ignore the pain. I feel like I can hardly breathe. Something warm trickles down my thigh.

  
“Take it out, take it out, TAKE IT OUT!!!” I shout, but Bruce just ignores me. He just keeps going and I feel like this torture will never end. This moment will stretch on forever, my own personal hell.

  
How did this happen? Not minutes ago I was asking for this. I begged for it! That all changed in just a matter of moments though. I felt loved and adored and in one second those feelings were just torn away from me. I can't handle this. It hurts so much and I know it doesn't have to be this painful. Bruce doesn't care though. He's never cared. Bruce just does whatever he wants no matter how it might affect me.

  
I’m sobbing as he finally comes with a loud groan. He keeps going until I feel his cock go limp and soft within me. He's breathing heavily, his body shiny with sweat. I want him to get off me so I can take the blankets and wrap myself up in them and pretend this never happened. Bruce takes his time rolling off me.

  
My thighs and the sheets are stained with my blood. I watch the blood dribble down my legs. I've stopped crying, the wet moisture on my cheeks drying. I try to feel sad or angry or lonely, but all I feel is numb. I just lay there and watch the dark blood stain the mattress. The only thing I feel is empty.

  
Bruce rolls out of the bed, sitting up and collecting his discarded clothes off the floor. I watch with confusion as he begins to put his pants back on.

  
“Well, that was fun but I’ve got places to be.” He says enthusiastically. I sit up quickly at these words and instantly regret it. My butt feels sore and I wince from the pain. I slip under the blankets so I don't feel as exposed. I must have misheard him.

  
“What do you mean you have places to be?” I ask. Bruce barely spares me a glance as he begins to button up his shirt.

  
“I'm meeting someone at a club. I actually meant to tell you about it earlier. I’ve been seeing someone for a couple of months now and it’s getting pretty serious. Her name’s Silver St. Cloud. The three of us are going out to dinner tomorrow night. She's been asking to meet you for weeks now.” Bruce explains while he styles his hair with a comb. Outrage and disgust grows inside me with every word that comes out of his mouth.

  
“So let me get this straight. You butter me up with ice cream sundaes and good memories, then you fuck me even though I beg you not to, and then you ditch me not five minutes later to go get it on with your girlfriend?!" I spit out, my hands shaking from anger. Bruce just looks at me with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

  
"I remember you begging, Dick, but it definitely wasn't for me to stop." He responds before turning away. I feel all the blood rush to my cheeks from humiliation. He's right of course. I did beg for him and I wish desperately that I could make take that moment back.

  
"Then I changed my mind and cried for you to stop and you didn't." I accuse. Bruce turns back around at my words, his face hard as stone.

  
"When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you don't have a say in these matters? I'm the adult and you're the child." Bruce says. I know I should let the conversation end there. That's what I would usually do, but I can't do that tonight. Bruce has mistreated and abused me over and over again, and I've always just sat here and taken it. Well not tonight.

  
I thought that maybe I could be happy with Bruce. I thought that maybe if I really tried, I could learn to trust him again. What a fool I was to take down my walls and try to give into my deepest desires.

  
"Okay, so you make all the decisions right now, but what about ten years from now? What happens when I'm your age and you're in your thirties? Will I have a say in our relationship then or will you still be the one to make all the decisions?" It isn't until after I have ask this question that I realize what I've just said. I feel a heavy weight of devastation fall upon me.

  
The way I'm talking makes it sound like I still expect to live in this manor with Bruce when I'm twenty-five. Even worse, I used the term "our relationship" as if we are something more than child and guardian. It sounds like I don't ever intend to leave his side and maybe I don't. What would I do without Bruce? I am incapable of taking care of myself regardless of my age. Bruce is supposed to take care of me for the rest of my life. He says all the time how he will always be there for me. A part of me always thought I would be free of Bruce one day. I realize now that deep down I knew that never to be true.

  
I run my hands through my hair as Bruce watches me with a smile tugging at his lips. He has also realized what I've said.

  
"That's not what I meant." I try to backtrack, but Bruce doesn't seem to believe me. He just walks closer to the bed, watching me the same way a predator hunting its prey would.

  
"I think it's exactly what you meant, Dick." He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand finding its way to my covered thigh. I try to be subtle when I slide away from him. "You're hopeless without me. You can't even make a decision by yourself without me telling you what to do. Isn't that what we learned when we tried to send you to Gotham Academy? So of course I will always be the one who makes all the choices in our relationship. It's what's best for both of us."

  
I'm quiet for a moment as I let brain wrap around those words. That's it then. There's no getting out of this ever. I will always belong to Bruce and he will always be able to do whatever he wants with me. It doesn't matter how old or how big I get. Bruce will always be in charge and there's nothing I can do to change that.

  
"Either way, you can't just do what you did to me and then ditch me to go see someone else. That's not fair to me." I point out. I try to sound strong and confident, but my words end up coming out as a weak whisper. Bruce gives me a pitiful look as he slithers closer to me.

  
"Aww, is someone jealous?" He asks in a mocking tone. I shiver as Bruce puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side. "You know it's all for show, right? If I didn't uphold to my playboy reputation, people might start getting suspicious. They might start wondering what a single man like me is doing with an orphan boy. Don't you worry though; no matter how beautiful the woman is, you will always come first to me."

  
"I am not jealous of some dumb socialite!" I snap, smacking Bruce's arm off my shoulder. His eyes narrow dangerously at my words. "And I will not be meeting your stupid girlfriend! I don't want to spend anymore time with you or anyone who is crazy enough to want to date you!"

  
Bruce is scary silent and I see something flicker in his eyes. He takes me by the wrists, holding so tightly that I wince in pain. His eyes are full of wrath as they bore into mine. I'm too terrified to look away.

  
"I know you don't mean what you're saying. You're angry because I'm abandoning you right now. You're a teenager and that means you say stupid things. I understand that, but at the same time you are being very disrespectful." He says in a compassionless voice. Bruce lets go of my wrists, leaving fresh purple bruises where his fingers just were. He stands up from the bed and brushes a loose strand of his hair back into place. My next words come out in a hiss.

  
"I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I wish you had never adopted me!"

  
His face is expressionless and for half a moment I actually think he won't do anything. Then he's right there in front of my face and I see his hand blur as it comes towards me. There's a loud "SLAP!" noise that follows. My head turns from the impact and I feel a sharp sting on my cheek. The skin is hot to the touch. I look up at him with a shocked expression. I guess I should just feel lucky that he decided to go with a slap instead of a punch.

  
"You need to learn some manners. You need to remember who is in charge here. These past couple of days you have shown me no respect. What you need is to be punished." Bruce says in a hard tone. He walks towards the bedroom door.  
"Whatever you do can't be worse than anything else you've already done." I say as Bruce's hand touches the doorknob. He looks over his shoulder at me with a dangerous smile.

  
"Oh, I don't know about that. There's a few things we haven't tried yet." Bruce opens the door and walks out into the dark hallway, leaving me to think of all the endless ways he can torture me.

 

 

 


	7. He Loves Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to hell for writing this fic.

I'm still naked in Bruce’s bed when I wake up the next day. A soft pillow is clutched to my chest like it's a teddy bear. The blankets are tangled up in my legs. Sunlight shines down on me through the window, keeping me warm. I turn my head to look at the clock. It's twelve in the afternoon, so why am I still in bed? Alfred should have woken me up hours ago.

  
I take my time sitting up. I'm really sore from last night and I still have a slight headache. I look around the room for my clothes from yesterday but they're gone. That means I have to wear Bruce’s clothes because I really don't want to walk the halls naked.

  
I go through his drawers, looking for something that won't make me look like a six year old wearing their dad’s clothes. Of course I fail at this because everything Bruce owns is four times my size. After going through several drawers and the closet, I finally settle on some cottony sweatpants and an old black t-shirt. The t-shirt falls down to my thighs and I have to roll up the sweatpants several times so they're not dragging on the floor.

  
Wearing Bruce's clothes fills me with both contempt and disgust. Sometimes Bruce forces me to wear his clothing late at night or in the early morning. He has this really satisfied look on when I do. I know he does this because he feels like it's another way to show his ownership over me. It's one of the main reasons why I don't like wearing his clothes. At the same time, wearing Bruce’s things also provides me with a sense of comfort, and I feel disgusted with myself for enjoying it.

  
I limp across the room to the door. I have never been allowed to sleep late since I began living with Bruce so none of this makes any sense. I turn the doorknob, but the door won't budge. I try at it again, and again, and again. It's no use though. I'm locked in. Did Bruce lock me in on purpose or was it an accident? You need a key to lock the room from the outside so there's no way it could have been an accident.

  
I let out a frustrated sigh before going over to the intercom by the bed. My stomach growls for food. There's an intercom in every room and Alfred should be able to hear me as long as he's home. I hold down the button to speak.

  
“Hey Alfred, what's going on? Why am I locked in here?” I ask and let go of the button. I wait two minutes for an answer, but the only response I get is silence. “If you won't talk to me then fine, but can I at least get some food? Please? I'm really hungry up here.”

  
Again, there's no answer. I flop down onto the bed, my arms and legs splayed apart. My stomach rumbles for food and I just know that Alfred isn't going to bring me any. Is this the punishment Bruce was talking about last night? He's going to keep me locked in this room like a prisoner with none of my own clothes or food?

  
“This is stupid.” I say to no one in particular. I cross my arms and stare up at the ceiling angrily. I can handle being stuck in this room all day. Yes, I’ll be bored out of mind, but that's nothing in comparison to some of the other things Bruce has forced me to do. The biggest problem is my empty stomach, which is only going to get worse as the day goes on.

  
I drag myself off the bed and into the bathroom. Maybe if I drink some water it will help with the hunger pains. I stare at the sink for a full three minutes before turning it on and cupping my hands under the water. There's no need to rush. It's not like I've got somewhere to be.

  
After drinking several handfuls of water, I turn on the shower so I can wash the dry blood off from last night. I give the water a couple of minutes to heat up as I pull off my clothes. My body is covered in purple, yellow, and green bruises. They are all in the shapes of fingers and hands. At this point I'm so used to the bruises that I don't even notice them anymore. It's like Bruce says, his bruises are a sign of how much he loves me. I know that Bruce loves me, but I don't think he always shows it the right way. I think back to how my parents use to show me love. They'd hug me, kiss my cheek, and pick me up and swing me around. Bruce does all of those things too, just to more of an extreme.

  
What Bruce did to me last night? I don't think that was love. I asked him to stop and he didn't. Although to be fair, I didn't exactly say the word stop. I led him on by begging for it. It was wrong of me to change my mind halfway through. It's not Bruce's fault, it's my fault. Bruce didn't do anything wrong. He just gave me what I asked for.

  
I step into the the steaming shower, the hot water pouring over me. I'm too distracted with my thoughts to notice how the heat of the water burns against my skin. I grab a bar of soap and rub furiously at the blood stains. Then I angrily wash every other part of my body in an effort to wash out last night's memories.

  
Bruce can't be the monster I think he is. He just can't be. He's the only person I talk to, the only person I have some sort of connection with. Bruce is my only friend, therefore he cannot also be a monster. There's some good inside of him, I know there is. I've seen it. I saw it last night when we had that ice cream together. I saw it when he adopted me. I see it sometimes when he smiles and I feel it sometimes when he holds me. He's not all monster. There's some good inside of him. There has to be. I need there to be.

  
I lean my hands against the shower wall. Bruce reminded me about how when I was younger I always wanted him to carry me. That wasn't all I wanted from him. While I have always sought Bruce's approval, two years ago I desperately wanted his physical affection. I would snuggle up in his lap while he worked, sneak into his bed at night to cuddle, and constantly jump onto his back for piggyback rides. All of these were things I used to do with my mother, but maybe doing these things with Bruce meant something different. Maybe these gestures meant something a little more serious to Bruce than just a child's love for his guardian.

  
I slip out of the shower and wrap myself up in a large, warm towel. I gently dry my body before getting dressed again. My stomach continues to call for food and it's becoming more painful. I make myself comfortable under the thick blankets of Bruce's bed and lay on my stomach in hopes that it will ease the hunger pains. Sleep always makes the time go by faster and it's not like there's anything more interesting to do.

  
I pull one of the pillows in close and nestle in. Within the last couple of days I have been acting out towards Bruce. I ate chocolate even though I know I'm not supposed to, I told him I hated him, and I slapped his arm away when he tried to hold me. He's right; I have been really disrespectful recently. Bruce is right to punish me. He is my guardian after all. He knows best.

 

  
***************

 

  
The first thing I see when I wake up is a tall figure standing by the doorway. Bruce's eyes are glazed over and his hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and touch me. It seems like Bruce is spending more and more time watching me sleep. I feel both comforted by this and creeped out. I sit up when I see him, waiting for him to speak first. He simply watches me, a pained expression on his face.

  
"I'm hungry." I say, breaking the silence. It's the first thing that comes to my mind.

  
"I know." Bruce answers. His voice is deep and serious. I pull the blankets closer to me for protection. "Get on your knees."

  
My eyebrows pull together in confusion, my grip tightening on the blankets.

  
"What? Why?" I ask in a small voice, but Bruce doesn't even look like he heard me. He undoes his tie and throws it onto the floor.

  
"Come over here and get on your knees please." He says in a threatening voice. Scared of what he'll do if I don't listen, I scramble out of the bed so fast that I fall onto on the floor and quickly crawl over to where Bruce stands. I get up on my knees and look up at him, terrified of whatever it is he's going to make me do.

  
"I'm really sorry. The way I treated you was wrong and it won't happen again. I don't hate you." I say desperately. Bruce looks down at me, that look of anguish still on his face. It looks like he doesn't want this as much as I don't.

  
"I'm glad you learned your lesson, but I still have to punish you. I can't be one of those people who threaten to punish my child and then not go through with it." He insists. I bite my lower lip and watch hopelessly as Bruce moves to unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. It can't be a blowjob he wants. Bruce never looks upset when I give him one of those. Quite the opposite actually.

  
His pants and boxers drop to the floor, and then I'm looking up at his soft dick. That's really strange. I can't think of the last time Bruce showed me his dick and it wasn't hard. I don't think that's ever happened before.

  
"I don't understand Bruce-"

  
"Dick please, you need to be quiet." He interrupts me. Bruce closes his eyes and rubs at his forehead. He looks aggravated and miserable. What's going to happen that's making Bruce so upset?

  
Without warning he grabs my head and tugs me closer to his cock. His hands hold my hair tightly and he pushes my face so close that my lips brush against his dick. I can feel my heart thump against my chest while Bruce lets out a heavy breathe.

  
"Now open your mouth." He orders. I hesitate for a half a second before doing as he asks. He shoves his dick into my mouth and I nearly choke. His hands grow tighter in my hair. I don't know what's about to happen. I'm scared and I just want to crawl back into bed. "Don't worry. It's sterile."

  
For a moment I don't know what he's talking about and then something that tastes like salt water only ten times worse hits my tongue. I try to pull away but Bruce's grip only gets stronger. My gag reflex kicks in and I start to choke as the urine continues to go down my throat.

  
"Just relax. It will all be over soon." Bruce says in a soothing voice, one hand moving to brush some hair off my face. "Swallow, Dick, swallow it all down. That's it...good boy."

  
I swallow as Bruce continues to pee into my mouth. I try not to choke but it's impossible not to. My hands push at his thighs in an effort to get away, but Bruce doesn't acknowledge this. I never thought Bruce would do something like this. I didn't even know that this is something you could do. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

  
After what seems like hours, the urine stops coming and Bruce lets me go. I rip my face away from his dick and turn away. I choke and cough, my body bent over towards the floor. I would puke if I had any food in my stomach.

  
Bruce kneels down next to me, pulling me onto his lap. I press my face against his neck in hopes to find some sort of comfort. One hand runs up and down my back and the other massages my scalp. It's amazing how in one second Bruce is the one causing me pain and in the next he's the one making everything better.

  
"I know that was hard, but you did it. You did so good Dick. I'm so proud of you. You're my brave, good boy." Bruce murmurs. Happiness fills me at these words. All I want is to make Bruce proud and I did. Sure I had to do the most degrading thing in my life to make him proud, but the response from Bruce almost makes it worth it. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, but you needed to be punished. I love you so much."

  
I snuggle in closer, breathing in Bruce's scent. It's moments like these when I know that Bruce loves me. If Bruce didn't love me he wouldn't hold me and tell me what a good boy I am. He only made me swallow his urine because I was bad and I needed to be punished. I deserved it.

  
"How much do you love me?" I whisper against his skin. The hand stroking my back stops for a second before resuming.

  
"I love you more than anything or anyone. I love you more than you could possibly comprehend. It doesn't matter what you do or say, I will never stop loving you." Bruce says. I smile and then I do the strangest thing. I kiss his cheek. Bruce looks surprised at the gesture. It's nice to know that someone cares for me so deeply. Bruce says he loves me and I believe him.

 

 


	8. Gotham's Pretty Side

As soon as we get into the limo, Bruce puts the divider up between us and Alfred. He flashes me a charming smile before sliding closer and putting an arm around my shoulders. I try to sit still as he fiddles with my tie, his eyes taking in every inch of me. The way I’m dressed I look like a mini Bruce. What with my designer suit, shiny black shoes, and grey tie. Even my hair is styled the same way as Bruce’s.

  
“Such a pretty boy.” Bruce purrs, his fingers moving from my tie down to the button of my suit jacket. He undoes it and his hand curls around my waist, pressing my body against his. I feel his hot breathe against the side of my face and then his moist tongue licks the outer shell of my ear. My breathe quickens and the hairs on my arms stand up.

  
He turns my face towards his and slowly presses our lips together. My body begins to shake as our tongues meet. The hand on my waist slides up towards my collarbone. His fingers continue upward and brush against the back of my neck. Bruce pulls me closer so that I'm practically sitting on his lap.

  
This doesn't really seem like an appropriate time to be doing this. We're on our way to pick up Silver St. Cloud, Bruce's girlfriend, and he's kissing me. That just doesn't seem right to me. That doesn't seem fair to both me or Silver.

  
The kiss grows with intensity and Bruce's hands become more curious as they search my body. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tighter. Bruce is my rock. He keeps me alive and connected to this earth. I hold onto him desperately.

  
Bruce doesn't really care for Silver. He's only dating her for appearances. I'm still the most important thing to him. Bruce told me so himself. I break off the kiss, surprised when he lets me.

  
"Why do I have to meet her? I mean, if you're only dating her for your reputation then it doesn't matter, right?" I ask. Bruce gives me a sympathetic smile and takes my face into his hands.

  
"She's been begging to meet you for months. It's the right thing to do. Silver's very sweet and very kind. You'll like her and she's going to love you. How could she not?" He says in a reassuring tone, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I hide my face against his chest.

  
"What if you end up liking her more than me? What if you get sick of me because now you have some beautiful, perfect girlfriend and you get rid of me?" I practically cry. Bruce laughs at this and pulls my face away from his chest so he can see my face. His eyes are filled with nothing but love.

  
"Dick, that's absolutely ridiculous. I would never want to get rid of you. You're my favorite person in the world. That's not going to change just because I'm dating someone. I love you. How many times do I have to say that?" He answers sincerely. I smile earnestly and Bruce pulls me in for another kiss.

  
The rest of the ride to Silver's hotel is spent by Bruce kissing me. My stomach continues to growl and rumble for food, and that distracts me for a short time. Despite his best efforts, I'm still feeling doubtful of Bruce's love for me. I need to know that Bruce will still choose me over anyone else, because if he doesn't then what will happen to me? I need Bruce to keep loving me. If he were to stop I'd have no one. I can't bear to have no one.

  
The limo stops and Alfred comes around to open the door for us. I slip off of Bruce's lap and fix my suit jacket. I step out of the car after Bruce and look up at the towering, sparkling hotel. This building doesn't look like it belongs in Gotham City at all. Gotham is a grimy, dirty city full of criminals and liars. This hotel would be much more comfortable in Metropolis.

  
The doorman greets us with a smile as we walk into the luxurious, silver and gold flecked lobby. It's like being in the Manor but the building's not looming in an eternal darkness.

  
"Why is she living in a hotel?" I ask as we step onto the elevator. Bruce and the elevator operator exchange pleasantries before he turns back to me. He puts his arm around my shoulders the way a father would with his son.

  
"She moved to Gotham only a few months ago. I think she's hoping I'll ask her to move in." He answers. I look up at him in panic.

  
"You're not going to, are you?" I ask desperately. I don't think I could handle it if Silver moved in with us. She's bound to become Bruce's favorite then.

  
"Of course not." He says with a pat on my shoulder. "I very much value the privacy we have at home. There's no way I would give up that one on one time with you. It's my favorite part of the day."

  
Bruce's smile seems so genuine that I just wish I could feel the same way. No matter how hard I try to change it, the time Bruce and I spend together in private still terrifies me.

  
The elevator doors open up to the hotel suite. Everything is decorated in golden silks and cream colored furs. Opposite of us is a floor to ceiling window view of Gotham City. The sun is beginning to set and the city night lights are just starting to come on. It's a beautiful sight.

  
"Wow." I breathe, stepping closer to the window. I hear Bruce chuckle, his hand on my shoulder stopping me from going any further. I've always thought of Gotham as a very ugly, dangerous place. This view shows a different side of the city. It shows a beautiful, glamorous side. It's an illusion of what people wish Gotham was.

  
I'm so captivated by the view that I don't even notice a woman in a sparkling, midnight blue dress standing off to the side. When I do see her, I can't help but think how beautiful she is. Her eyes are a piercing blue, her skin as clear as porcelain, and her hair so light it's almost white. This must be Silver St. Cloud.

  
"Right on time as usual." She says in a light voice and with a pretty smile. Silver walks over to Bruce and touches his cheek, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. I watch as his arms curl around her waist the same way they do to mine.   
Bruce looks down at me with a proud smile and her eyes follow. "Silver, this is Dick, my ward."

  
"It's so nice to finally meet you! Bruce talks about you all the time." Silver says enthusiastically, putting her hand out. I shake her fragile hand, the diamond bracelets on her skinny arm shimmering in the light. She catches me looking at them. "They're beautiful, aren't they? A gift from Bruce. He is just so sweet."

  
Silver gives Bruce a fond smile which he returns. I look up at Bruce with annoyance. This isn't the Bruce Wayne I know. This is a charming, suave Bruce Wayne. The Bruce I know, the real Bruce, isn't those things. The real Bruce is controlling and secretive. I hate when Bruce pretends to be this other person. I hate how easily everyone falls for it. It's nothing but a lie. It's a mask he wears to hide who he truly is.

  
"Yes, Bruce is very kind." I say, trying to sound like I mean it. Bruce gives me a pleased look before Silver goes off to get her purse. As soon as she's gone, Bruce takes a step closer to me and rubs the back of my neck hard.

  
"Ow!" I say and step out of his reach. He looks at me in surprise.

  
"What did I do?" He asks in a concerned tone. I lightly touch the back of my neck where I felt the sudden pain. I feel the small bump against my fingers.

  
"It's that stupid bump I have on the back of my neck. It hurts when you press against it too hard." I explain. Bruce's eyes soften at my words. A strange emotion settles across his face but is gone before I can identify it. He reaches out to me and I let him take me into his arms. He runs a hand up and down my arm. I close my eyes and lean into his weight, enjoying this innocent gesture. It reminds me of the Bruce I used to know. The Bruce I was able to trust wholeheartedly.

  
I hear the clicking of heels against the floor and Bruce roughly pushes me away as Silver turns the corner. I almost fall but manage to catch myself. I look at him with a hurt expression, but Bruce's attention is elsewhere.

  
"You two ready to go?" She asks and comes over to stand next to Bruce. He offers her his arm and she takes it.

  
"Ready when you are, beautiful." Bruce answers. The two of them keep talking as we step into the elevator, but I'm no longer paying attention to the conversation. Their constant flirting makes me want to be sick. Why did Bruce push me away like that when Silver came back into the room? It's not like we were doing anything wrong. Is Bruce embarrassed of me? That would explain why he mostly keeps me locked up at home all the time. I wouldn't blame him if he is embarrassed by me. I'd be embarrassed by me too. I'm just a stupid, pathetic cry baby.

  
I watch how Silver holds Bruce's arm like she owns it. She readjusts his already perfectly straight tie. She lets go of his arm and Bruce wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. It's like they don't even know I'm here. They're so wrapped up in each other that they've forgotten about my existence. It fills me with this strange feeling that I can't identify. I don't like it though. Bruce has forgotten me. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen.

 

 

********************

 

  
When we get to the restaurant, the hostess leads us to a private room away from the rest of the diners. We're seated in a intimate, wine cellar styled room with a large, glowing fireplace. The three of us sit down at a small, round table.

  
My eyes land on a bread basket in the center of the table. Without hesitation I grab one. I'm so hungry I don't even bother with butter and just start shoving it down my throat. It's the most delicious bread I've ever tasted. I don't know if it's the bread itself that's so good or if it's just because I haven't eaten anything all day. Bruce clears his throat. I look up at him and shrink at his disapproving gaze. I place the bread down onto my plate and chew slower.

  
"Sorry. I'm really hungry." I say after I swallow. Silver lets out a laugh that sounds like a bell.

  
"I can see that. That's good. A growing boy like you needs to eat." She says with a smile. I smile back, glad that she doesn't think badly of me for being so rude.

  
The waiter comes over to tell us about the specials and recommend some of the restaurant's best wines. I don't even bother listening. I never get to pick out my own meals anyway. Bruce has always chosen what I eat. I used to think it was him trying to make things easier for me, but now I know it's just another way for him to have the control. It doesn't bother me though. Even if I was allowed to pick out what I wanted to eat, I wouldn't even know what to get. It's just another thing I need Bruce's help with.

  
After Bruce orders us some appetizers and wine, Silver places her chin in her hand and gives me her full attention. Her eyes sparkle with interest. I shift in my seat self-consciously. I'm not used to making conversation with people who aren't Bruce or Alfred.

  
"Dick, I just want to thank you for agreeing to meet me. Bruce told me how anxious you get when meeting new people. He told me about the experience you had at Gotham Academy. I am so sorry that happened to you. That must have been so awful." Silver says sympathetically. I turn to Bruce with a glare, feeling both shocked and betrayed.

  
"You told her about that? You weren't supposed to tell people!" I exclaim. Bruce looks taken back by my reaction, his hand reaching out to touch my arm.

  
"She knew you were starting up at the school, and asked me how your first day went. I couldn't lie." Bruce explains calmly. I narrow my eyes at him and have to press my lips together to stop myself from saying something I'll regret. It by far wouldn't be the worst lie he's told her. Silver's eyes flicker from me to Bruce and then back again, a worried expression on her face.

  
"I'm sorry Dick. I shouldn't have brought it up. I thought you knew." Silver says. I pick up my butter knife and slather butter onto my roll before taking a bite. I shrug in response.

  
"It's fine." I mumble after I finish chewing.

  
Thankfully, the waiter comes back in at that moment with an unopened bottle of wine and a plate of appetizers. He places the plate in the center of the table and then opens the wine bottle with a pop. He pours Bruce a glass and we all watch Bruce sniff and take a small sip. After a moment, Bruce nods his head with approval and the waiter pours Silver a glass. He asks if we're ready to order and my mind drifts off as Bruce orders for me.

  
"Bruce tells me you used to be an acrobat in the circus. That must have been fun." Silver says once the waiter has left. I use my fork to pick up a piece of shrimp from the appetizer plate and move it to my plate before answering. I'm grateful for the change in conversation. The circus is definitely something I can talk about.

  
"Yeah, it was great. There's no better feeling in the world then flying through the air. It made me feel like a bird." I say with a smile. I look at Bruce at the same moment he looks over at me and our eyes meet. He gives me this soft, admiring smile and I'm so wrapped up in his gaze that it takes me a second to remember that Silver is even there.

  
We spend the rest of dinner talking about my time at the circus and all the different countries I've visited as an acrobat. Silver tells me about how she used to live in Gotham when she was a child before she was sent away to boarding school in Switzerland. Her family left Gotham for the more desirable Metropolis, but she was feeling nostalgic and decided to visit her old home. That's when she met Bruce.

  
The manager of the restaurant visits us at some point during the meal. He wants to make sure that we're happy with our food and that everything meets Bruce's standards. He seems to know Bruce personally. Apparently, Bruce comes to this restaurant often. Not that I would know. Bruce doesn't take me anywhere unless he has to.

  
While Silver seems nice enough, I still don't like the way she acts with Bruce. If she's not playfully touching him, she's either batting her eyelashes all flirty like or flipping her hair over her shoulder with a dazzling smile. The worst part is that Bruce seems to enjoy it. At one point he even leans over and whispers something into her ear, his lips lightly touching her smooth skin. Silver lets out this nervous little titter and her face turns a dark shade of red. My grip tightens on my fork and something inside my stomach twists with anger. Watching the two of them makes my chest hurt. It feels like someone's twisting my heart. I almost want to cry.

  
"Excuse me. I have to go powder my nose." Silver says during the coffee.

  
As soon as she steps out of the room Bruce's hand is on my thigh. Before I even have a chance to breathe his lips are attacking mine in a crushing kiss. He shoves his tongue into my mouth and I'm so surprised that I can't even respond. His hand comes up to cup my cheek while the other presses against my crotch. A small part of me is relieved that Bruce hasn't forgotten about me even with Silver here, but mostly I'm just freaking out.

  
I push against his chest. Bruce ends the kiss and gasps. He presses his forehead against mine. I try to pull away but Bruce runs his fingers through my hair, keeping me there.

  
"What are you doing? She can walk back in at any moment." I say, my voice high with panic. Bruce isn't concerned though. He just presses his mouth against mine again, his hand between my legs grinding down furiously.

  
"I've been wanting to do that all night. I couldn't wait any longer." He says after breaking the kiss. I shift awkwardly in my seat, my cock getting hard under his hand. It's only been a couple of hours since he last kissed me. He's acting like it's been days.

  
"Bruce please, this can't happen right now." I gasp as his hand on my groin moves faster. He snickers at this, leaning down to kiss and lick my neck.

  
"Your body seems to be saying something different." He comments. I cry out in pain as he bites down hard on my collarbone.  
"That hurts!" I whisper shout. Bruce licks the spot he just bit and pulls away with a satisfied smirk.

  
I can hear Silver's heels as she approaches the room. Bruce's eyes flicker to the entrance before detaching himself from my body and sitting up in his chair. I tuck in closer to the table to hide my hard-on and Silver walks back into the room with an oblivious grin.

  
"Did I miss anything?" She asks playfully, her eyes going back and forth between the two of us. I feel my cheeks heat up at her question. Bruce snickers.

  
"Nothing noteworthy." I say when it becomes clear that Bruce is waiting for me to answer. I glance down at my covered erection and try to think of something that's a huge turn-off like dead kittens.

  
It's a relief when we finally get up to leave and Bruce leads us to the waiting limo out front. A cold breeze hits me as I walk out of the restaurant. The city lights twinkle like stars and I take a moment to enjoy the feeling of being outside. It's only a matter of time before I'm locked up in the Manor again.

  
Silver steps into the limo first. Bruce turns to me, a heavy hand landing on my shoulder. He leans in to whisper something, his lips brushing against my skin. "You've been such a good boy tonight. I can't wait to reward you for it."

  
I shiver at his words. Bruce touches the small of my back, leading me into the limo. I slide into the darkness of the car and try to prepare myself for whatever comes next.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Not Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is stupid.

By the time we pull up to Silver’s hotel, I'm more than ready to call it a night. Bruce, however, seems to think otherwise. He leans over the driver’s seat to tell Alfred that we will be staying the night. My head jerks in his direction. Before I can object to this Alfred has the car door open and I'm being led into the hotel.

  
We should be on our way home by now, not stuck in Silver's golden suite. This night has been too long as it is. I don't want it to continue. I don't want to have keep watching Bruce and Silver flirt. Bruce is probably going to sleep in Silver’s bed with her. Just the thought of the two of them sharing a bed makes my heart ache. We shouldn't be spending the night here at all. I shouldn't be spending the night here.

  
When we enter the hotel suite, Silver throws her purse onto the floor and flicks off her heels. I sit down on the couch opposite the window. I keep my eyes on the view, the lights of the buildings winking at me.

  
"I'll show you to the guest room Dick." Silver says. I stand up and follow her around the corner to the bedroom. I look around for Bruce, expecting him to follow us, but he's no where to be seen. The room is painted a pale blue and the full sized bed has a golden paisley design. I sit down on the bed and Silver gives me a delighted smile.

  
"I think I have some clothes of Bruce's you can wear to sleep in." She says before disappearing. I look around the room, a lump forming in my throat.

  
I know what Bruce and Silver are planning on doing tonight, and it hurts just to think about it. I've never really had to think about what Bruce does with all his girlfriends. He's never brought them home before. I always just assumed he was taking them out. I didn't think that he might be having sex with them. I figured that's what he has me for. What a fool I was to think that I was enough for him.

  
Silver comes back into the room with a neatly folded pile of clothes. I thank her as she hands them to me.

  
"Good night Dick." She says sweetly, her hand on the doorknob. I look into her innocent, honest eyes and try to find something bad there, but I can't. All I see is good. I can't remember the last time I saw such pureness in someone's face.

  
"Good night Silver." I whisper and she gently closes the door. I try to focus on getting changed instead of what's going on down the hall. I can hear Silver laughing and Bruce growling. There's the sound of the opening and closing of a bedroom door. I can picture it all in my head perfectly.

  
I can imagine every moment of it. I can see the way he kisses her. Probably the same way he kisses me. I can imagine her breathe might quicken when his lips drag across her skin. She might whimper and plead for him. Bruce will lead her to the bed and they'll wrap themselves around each other. He'll slip her dress off at a tortuously slow pace while he kisses his way down her body. Silver will cry out for him and Bruce will strip himself of his clothes and enter her just like that. She'll whimper and pant the same way I do, and he will say how tight she is just like he does with me.

  
I can hear it happening as I unfold the small pile of clothes. It's sad how I recognize the t-shirt and boxers Silver gave me. Bruce's boxers is something I haven't worn before. I don't feel that comfortable wearing them now, but it's not like I have much of a choice. I don't like the idea of wearing just the shirt. I try not to think about why Silver has Bruce's clothes here in the first place.

  
I don't know why it makes me so upset to think about Bruce with someone else. It shouldn't. He's my guardian. Bruce owns me, not the other way around. I don't even enjoy the time we spend together for the most part. So why am I so upset that Bruce is spending his time with someone else? I guess I feel like I should be enough for him. If he really cares about me the way he says he does, I should be all he needs. But I'm not. I'm not enough.

  
He says he loves me. He says I'm the most important thing in the world to him. If that's true, then Bruce shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't want to do this. This isn't love. You don't do this kind of thing to the person you love.

  
I turn off the lights and slip under the comforter. I close my eyes and try to ignore the mewls and moans coming from the bedroom next door. It only gets worse though. I take my pillow and slam it over my head.

  
"You're so tight, so tight!" Bruce roars. Just hearing his voice brings tears to my eyes. I know how vocal Bruce is during sex and it's nothing like that. When Bruce has sex, he's quiet except for his groans, moans, and some whispering. He doesn't shout for the whole world to hear. He's doing this because of me. Bruce wants me to hear. He wants me to imagine it in my head and torture myself with those thoughts. It's his way of saying, "I can do whatever I want and you can't."

  
The wailing gets louder and the groaning gets deeper. The tears fall down my cheeks. I'm quick to wipe them away. I shouldn't be crying over this. It's not like I like Bruce that way. I don't think I do. I don't know why this is causing me to act this way. I feel like I cry all the time now. Crying makes me feel weak and I hate feeling weak.

  
As quickly as the noises began they stop. All I can hear is my own quiet breathing and sniffles. I close my eyes and try to sleep. I twist and turn in the bed as images of Bruce and Silver laying naked together run through my head. It only makes more tears come to my eyes.

  
Bruce didn't even come to say goodnight to me. As soon as we got here, it was like I didn't exist anymore to him. It's a stupid thing to get upset about, but I can't help it. I don't want to be forgotten by Bruce. He's supposed to love me more than anyone else in the world.

  
I don't know how much time passes before I hear the creak of the bedroom door opening. I'm facing away from the door so I don't see who it is, but there's only one person it could be. It's the last person I want to see right now. His feet are so light on the floor that I don't even hear him approach the bed. I do feel him sink onto the bed beside me. His hand touches my shoulder.

  
"Dick? Are you awake? Silver's asleep." He whispers. I turn so that I'm laying on my back and I can see him looking down at me. It doesn't surprise me that he's stark naked, but I am glad to have the blanket between us. "Were you crying?"

  
"Does it matter?" I ask bitterly. Bruce looks surprised, but then a smile creeps onto his face.

  
"I know what will make you feel better." He sneers. Bruce's hands begin to seek out my body over the blanket. His right hand comes awfully close to my dick.

  
"No Bruce!" I say loudly, wiggling my body free from him. Bruce tells me to shush and looks towards the door. We're both quiet for a minute, Bruce's face hard with concentration. We both listen intently for any signs that Silver's awake. There's nothing but silence. Finally he lets out a breathe. Bruce's eyes turn from the door back to me.

  
"What has gotten into you?" He whispers angrily. I gape at him.

  
"You can't just do what you did with Silver and then come to me for more. It doesn't work that way." I say. Bruce's eyebrows pull together in confusion before he smirks with realization.

  
"You are jealous." He says happily. I wish it was darker so that Bruce wouldn't be able to see how hard I blush. His nasty smile gets bigger and I pull the blankets over my head like a child.

  
"I don't know what I am. Leave me alone." I say, the words coming out all muffled. I know my every emotion is clear on my face and I don't want Bruce to know how I'm feeling. For once, I just want to be able to keep a secret from him. I can hear Bruce sigh on the other side of the covers.

  
"Come on Dick. Let's talk about this." He says. He pulls off the blanket so he can see my face.

  
"I don't want to talk to you. Just leave me alone." I say miserably. Bruce glares, clearly losing his patience with me. My eyes begin to water again and I wipe at them with the back of my hand. Why am I crying again? I'm thirteen, not two!

  
Bruce's face softens when he sees that I'm on the verge of tears. His hand strokes my cheek and I fight the urge to lean into his touch.

  
"Okay, I'll leave you alone." He whispers. I roll to my side so I'm facing the wall as he stands up and walks towards the door. I can feel him watching me and I fidget in my bed. "I love you, Dick. So much."

  
I fall asleep that night thinking about what Bruce said and if he even knows what those words mean.

 

 

*******************

 

 

Silver tries to get us stay for breakfast the next morning, but Bruce is having none of that. He insists that he has work to do, but he appreciates the offer. I'm quiet as we get into the elevator. I refuse to speak to Bruce after last night. If he wants to talk to me then he can, but I don't have to answer. He hasn't tried to talk to me yet. When Silver asked me why I was so quiet, Bruce answered by saying I was just sleepy.

  
Today Alfred is waiting for us in a black Lamborghini. He notices the pronounced silence between the two of us as soon we get into the car. His questioning gaze goes from me to Bruce. I turn in my seat to look out the window so I don't have to look at anyone.

  
"How was your night, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks, his eyes on the road.

  
"Very good, thank you Alfred." He answers. I press my forehead against the glass and sigh loudly. I can feel Bruce's eyes on me. I know he's waiting for me to speak first, but it's not happening. He can't make me do everything just because he says so. I know it's childish to give someone the silent treatment, but it's the only thing I have control of anymore.

  
We spend the rest of the ride in total silence. When we get to the Manor, I run out of the car so fast that Alfred doesn't even have a chance to open the door. I want to get as far away from Bruce as possible. I can't even look at him without feeling betrayed.

  
As soon as Alfred has the front door open, I scramble in and head for the staircase. First thing I'm going to do when I get to my room is get out of this stupid suit and take a hot shower. I'm halfway up the stairs when Bruce speaks.

  
"Stop Dick." He commands. I stop in my tracks, frozen on the staircase. I know what happens when I don't listen to Bruce's orders. "We have to talk about this. You can't keep ignoring me."

  
I press my lips together. I will not speak to him. I won't.

  
"If you don't talk to me then I'll just punish you again." Bruce threatens. I shudder at the memory of Bruce's urine going down my throat. My silence isn't worth that. I guess he can make me do anything.

  
I take a deep breathe to prepare myself and then turn to face him. Bruce stands at the bottom of the staircase, his arms crossed and his face empty of emotion. Alfred is no where to be seen. He probably made himself disappear as soon as we got in. Alfred doesn't like to get in the middle of our arguments. He tries to mind his own business as much as possible.

  
"I'm talking. Happy?" I say with spite. With Bruce at the bottom of the stairs and me all the way up here, it's easy to feel brave. I feel big and strong when I look down at him like this. It's easy to say what I feel and not have to worry about what Bruce will do to me. I didn't have to worry about it last night because we were at Silver's and he couldn't hurt me there, but we're at home now. Anything goes here, but he is all the way down there and I'm all the way up here.

  
"I don't understand why you're so angry." Bruce says, uncrossing his arms.

  
"Why do you think I'm angry? You knew what you were doing last night. You knew how it would affect me." I accuse. I start to choke up just at the thought of it.

  
"I don't how it affected you. Why don't you tell me."

  
"It hurt, okay?" I burst out, my body shaking with fury. Bruce looks taken back by my outburst, but I don't care. I need Bruce to know how his actions hurt me. I need him to know that contrary to what he may think, what he does has an impact on me. "Just seeing you with her. It hurts, Bruce. It hurts my heart."

  
I bite my lower lip, refusing to cry. I'm done crying. Now I'm just angry.

  
"Dick I-"

  
"No. What you did last night...you did that on purpose. Didn't you? You could have just stayed over Silver's by yourself. You didn't need me there. You had me there to prove a point."

  
Bruce is quiet. He looks down at his feet and then back up at me.

  
"Maybe I just wanted you there because I love you and didn't want to be apart from you." He answers. I can't help but snort at this. Yeah, right.

  
"If you really loved me you wouldn't be with Silver." I point out. I turn around to continue up the stairs. I can't listen to his lies. I can't trust anything Bruce says.

  
I gasp when I feel a tug at my collar. Bruce was so quiet I didn't even hear him coming up the stairs. He grabs me by the waist, twists me around, and holds me against his chest. I try to push away but his arm are like stone. I feel like I can hardly breathe. I feel something hard against my leg and I whimper in fear. I should have seen this coming. How stupid of me to think I could say whatever I want without there being repercussions.

  
"I don't care what you think." Bruce whispers harshly in my ear, his grip tightening. "I do love you, but I'm not going to break up with Silver just because it hurts your feelings. I love you so much Dick, and I can prove it to you."

  
He holds my chin in a rough grip and smashes his lips against mine. His mouth is so hard against mine that it's painful. His tongue invades my mouth and his hands grab and pull at my body. Bruce begins to unbutton my shirt and I panic. I can't let this happen again. At least not here on the steps where Alfred could walk in and see us.

  
"No, no, no, no." I cry as he kisses and bites his way down my neck. He rips off my shirt and starts on my pants. It's no use, he won't stop. No matter how I much I beg and scream, Bruce will never listen.

 

 

 


	10. By The Fireplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to say I love all of you guys, and appreciate all the kudos, comments, and subscriptions. Each and every one of them make me so happy!

The room is dark, the only light source coming from the fireplace. I lay on the couch in front of the fire. It's my favorite place to sit in the whole Manor. The couch is worn out, the cushions extra soft and perfect for falling asleep.

  
The flames dance and curl around each other. I watch the logs burn and turn white with ash. The colors are radiant; red, orange, yellow, and every color in between. I listen to the crackling and popping of the fire. I feel the warmth against my face.

  
I stare at the flames and think about the only thing that's ever on my mind. Bruce. No matter what he does or how he treats me, I can't stop thinking about him. My entire life revolves around him. It's hard to believe that there was a time when I didn't even know Bruce. There was a time when our worlds had yet to collide.

  
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still remember every detail of my life before. It is so easy to picture Haly's Circus in my mind. I remember how bright and colorful everything was, like looking into a kaleidoscope. I remember the scent of barbecue and buttered popcorn. I can taste the cotton candy melt on my tongue, and the creaminess of the ice cream go down my throat. I can picture the elephants, the tigers, the clowns, and fire eaters. It's all so clear in my memory. Like I was just there yesterday.

  
The thing I remember the best though is my parents. My mother's loving eyes and my father's encouraging smile. The first time they taught me how to leap towards the bar and swing through the air. Mom used to say I reminded her of a beautiful robin flying high in the sky.

  
The images are so vivid, they almost feel real. Then I open my eyes and reality comes rushing back to me. I am not taking a bow with my parents as the crowd cheers for us. I am at Wayne Manor, laying on my back and getting warm by the fire. I am a prisoner in a beautiful cage and am being held captive by a handsome beast. This is my reality, and I feel weighed down with sadness at that thought.

  
"Dick?" A voice comes from the other end of the couch. I look away from the fireplace and up at Bruce. It's clear he just got home from work. His white button down is untucked, the sleeves are rolled up, and his tie is loose around his neck. He taps a hand against the arm of the sofa, his eyes full of curiosity. "Hi."

  
"Hi." I respond. Bruce looks exhausted. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair sticks up in all different directions. "How was work?"

  
"Long. Tiring." He answers, looking down at his hands. He looks back up at me. "Spread your legs."

  
I swallow loudly, but I do as he says. He climbs over the arm chair and lays down between my legs, his head resting on my stomach. Fortunately, the couch is both big enough and long enough for both of us. Bruce takes my arm and places it in his hair. He wraps his arms around my torso and breathes in deeply. I hesitate for a moment before combing my fingers through his soft hair.

  
"Hmm, that's nice." Bruce mumbles. I thought having all of Bruce's weight on me like this would hurt, but instead it just feels comfortable. It feels safe, warm, and right. I massage his scalp, closing my eyes and enjoying this moment. It's moments like these where the idea of being with Bruce forever, always having him by my side, doesn't sound so bad. Then I remember what happened the other day with Silver and on the stairs.

  
I don't know what to believe is the real Bruce. Is it the man who sleeps with other people and forces me to do things I don't want to do? Or is it the man who holds me in front of the fireplace? I don't think I can be with someone who is nothing but terrible. The person I spend my life with has to have some good in them.

  
I keep arguing with myself about this. I keep changing my mind on who Bruce really is. What is wrong with me? Am I really so stupid that I don't even know what kind of person Bruce is?

  
"What are you thinking about?" Bruce asks, breaking the silence. I glance down at him, but he's watching the fire. I can see the flames reflected in his blue eyes. I decide to be honest with him.

  
"You." I answer. Bruce tilts his head up to look at me, a smile growing on his face.

  
"What about me?"

  
"I'm trying to figure out...who you are." I say. The smile on his face disappears for a moment before reappearing again.

  
"Who am I?" Bruce asks. Our eyes meet. "I am the man who loves you. I'm the man who has loved you since the first time our eyes met. I am the person who you're meant to be with forever. I'm the man you've been waiting for, the man you're going to have a family with one day."

  
My breathe stops with those last words. The hand that's running through Bruce's hair freezes. I repeat that last sentence in my head over and over again. I must have heard him wrong. That can't be what he really said. Bruce watches me closely, giving me time to register this new information.

  
"Did you say that we're going to have a family one day?" I ask, afraid of what the answer will be. Bruce simply smiles.

  
"Of course. I'm thinking some boys, maybe two or three. Of course we'll wait until after we're married." He says nonchalantly.

  
"Married?!" I gasp, my eyes bugging out in horror. I can feel the vibration of Bruce's laughter against my body.

  
"What did you think was going to happen, Dick?" He asks with a grin. I open and close my mouth in shock. "I was thinking we would do it when you turn twenty-one. What do you think?"

  
"I can't get married when I'm twenty-one. That's, like, eight years from now!" I say. I had accepted that I would be with Bruce for the rest of my life, but I never imagined we would get married someday. I never thought we would adopt children. I've never really thought about being a parent. Before the Night That Changed Everything, I always just assumed I'd be a dad one day. After everything that's happened with Bruce though, I kind of gave up on that idea. It never occurred to me that Bruce might want to have kids with me.

  
"When the time comes, you'll be ready. Trust me Dick. I know what's best for you, remember?" Bruce says calmly. He lifts up my shirt and softly kisses my belly button. I barely notice him trailing kisses down my stomach to the waistband of my pants. I'm too distracted with the thought that one day I will have to call Bruce my husband and we will raise children together.

  
I blink and try to bring myself back to the current moment. Bruce takes his time pulling off my pants and briefs. I feel his hot breathe against my hard cock. He runs his hands across my bare thighs. The touch of his fingers against my skin feels like electricity. I gasp when a thick finger slides in between my cheeks and into my hole.

  
"Bruce, please no." I cry as the finger starts pumping in and out. I whimper with every thrust, my face turning red with shame. I throw my arm across my face to hide my reaction. My other hand grabs the couch cushions for support.

  
"You're such a good boy. God, you feel tight. I can't wait to be inside you." Bruce says. A second finger joins the first and I moan in pleasure. I don't want this, but at the same time I do. Part of me wants Bruce completely. Part of me wants to marry Bruce and have a family with him. I don't understand how I could feel that way. None of this makes any sense. Why would Bruce want to marry me anyway? What's so great about me?

  
A third finger joins the other two and I have to stop myself from crying out. Bruce's fingers seem to be moving at lightning speed, curling so they hit that pleasure spot again and again. I shut my eyes tightly when I can't hold it in any longer. I cry out loudly. I have to stop myself from begging.

  
"Such a slut." Bruce gasps, pulling his fingers out and quickly ridding himself of his pants and boxers. I feel strangely empty withouts fingers inside of me, but then I feel something much greater enter me.

  
I groan when he pushes in. It's so overwhelming that I could hardly breathe. I'm so conflicted about what I want. I don't know if I want him inside of me or not. He leans down to plant kisses all over my face, whispering about what a good boy I am. I am so pleased to hear those words come out of his mouth.

  
Bruce begins to thrust, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. With every thrust, he hits my prostate. We're both so busy gasping and moaning that at first neither of us hears the voices from the hallway.

  
"Miss St. Cloud, I insist you wait-"

  
"I must speak to him now Alfred. It's too important."

  
Someone enters the room and Bruce moves so quickly that all I see is a blur. All I know is that one second he's inside me and moaning about how tight I am, and in the next he's out of me and throwing a blanket over my lower half.

  
Bruce stands up and rushes to pull his pants back on. I'm still laying down on the couch when I turn to look at Silver. Alfred stands by the entrance, watching the whole scene with a grimace. Silver is frozen on the spot, her eyes so wide they're practically popping out of her skull. Her mouth hangs open like a codfish.

  
"What. The. Fuck." She says. For a moment, everything stands still. I lay there, my eyes going from Bruce to Silver and back again. The expression on Bruce's face clearly says, "Oh shit".

  
Time starts back up again when Bruce recomposes himself, and approaches Silver with an outstretched hand. He speaks in a soothing tone as if he's talking to a wild animal. "Silver, I can explain."

  
"No Bruce, I really don't think you can." She answers. Silver glances at me, her eyes full of pity.

  
"We shouldn't talk about this here. Alfred and Dick don't need to hear this." Bruce answers. Silver's eyes flash back to Bruce, her expression turning to one of disgust.

  
"I can't believe you. That boy is a child. He's only thirteen years old, for God's sake! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Silver shouts angrily. Bruce doesn't even flinch. I watch Alfred back into a dark corner of the room in an effort to stay out of the argument. I sink lower into the couch cushions until I can't see them anymore. I shove my face into the soft material and try to block out their voices.

  
"You don't understand. It's a delicate situation. I'm not hurting him." Bruce tries to explain. I run my fingers over one of the many bruises that cover my arms.

  
"I have to call the police." She says. I hear Silver open her bag and then she cries out in pain. I pull my head out of the cushions to peek over the couch. Bruce has Silver's purse in his hand, the other hand busy holding Silver by the wrist. I hadn't realized how much taller Bruce is than Silver until now. While I can't see Bruce's face, I can see Silver's and she looks terrified. "Bruce please, you're hurting me."

  
"Listen to me," Bruce says in such a low voice that I have trouble hearing. "You aren't going to tell a single soul about what you saw here today. What you're going to do is accept a very generous check from me, leave Gotham, and never come back. If you tell anybody about what just happened, I will find you and I will...well, lets just say it would be a real shame if something happened to that pretty face of yours."

  
Bruce pats Silver on the cheek, her eyes wide with terror. I swallow loudly, wondering what Bruce means by that. He turns to look at me with a reassuring smile. I try and fail to return it. Then he looks to Alfred, who is pressed against the wall. Alfred gives him a small smile back. Bruce then turns to Silver, who is looking at Bruce like he's lost his mind. I don't blame her. The only Bruce she's seen is the good, charming Bruce. Silver's never seen this darker, scarier Bruce that I'm so familiar with.

  
"Are we all good here? Do you understand, Silver?" Bruce asks casually. Bruce's untroubled attitude only makes him seem that more frightening. Silver nods twice. Bruce takes her by the shoulders and turns her gently around in the direction of the hallway. "Happy to hear it! Let me walk you out."

  
He places his hand on the small of her back and leads Silver away and out of earshot. Alfred follows them at a distance. I jump up from the couch and pull on my underwear and pants. I tip toe down the hall, and peek around the corner to watch Bruce standing with Silver by the front door. He has the door open and is whispering something into her ear. Bruce pulls away with a smile, and Silver hesitates for half a second before walking out the door.

  
As soon as she steps out, Bruce closes the door and turns in my direction. He looks right at me and grins. I duck behind the corner and slide down the wall to the floor. I pull my knees tight against my chest, deep in thought. I think about what Bruce said to Silver to make her leave us alone. What did he whisper in her ear? I've never heard Bruce threaten someone like that before. It scared me.

  
"Come on Dick." Bruce says. I jump, not realizing he was standing right next to me. I look up to see him standing over me with an easy smile. He watches me carefully and reaches out a hand to help me up. "Let's go have dinner."

  
I take his hand and let him lead the way.

 


	11. Haunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter.

A couple of days after Bruce threatened Silver, I see her picture in the newspaper. The article states that Silver has mysteriously left Gotham City without any known reason. The reporter goes on to say that Silver’s family hasn't heard from her, and weren't even aware that she was leaving the city. No one has seen Silver since. I watch Bruce read the article with a satisfied smirk. I wonder if he really just paid her to stay away or if there's more to the story. I think it's best not to think too much on it.

  
I can't help but be a little relieved that Bruce is no longer seeing Silver. She was the only woman I've known him to be serious about, and I hope something like that doesn't happen again. I hated the way it made me feel to see the two of them together. While she was very sweet, seeing how Bruce acted with her made me feel small and forgotten. I hate seeing Bruce act so intimate with someone else when he's supposedly in love with me. It's hard to believe him when he says that if he's kissing other people. I know I can't stop him from seeing other women, but I don't want to have to meet them anymore. Out of sight, out of mind.

  
Things are finally back to normal now. Wherever Silver is, I'm sure she's fine. Bruce wouldn't really hurt her, would he? He might have just been threatening her to scare her. Sure, Bruce can be a little rough sometimes, but it's not like he would kill anyone. I don't think he would. At least, I hope he wouldn't. I shouldn't think of Bruce this way. It isn't right. I'll just imagine that Silver's on a tropical island somewhere, sitting by a turquoise ocean and sipping a fruity drink.

  
Alfred slides a sheet of paper across the table to me. I blink at it a couple of times before picking it up and reading the title.

  
"You want me to make a crossword puzzle?" I ask, looking up at him. He gives me a small smile in return.

  
"I thought it would be a fun, lighter project for you to do. You've been working so hard recently. I figured you deserved a break." Alfred explains. I grin, surprised by Alfred's kindness. Could it be that Alfred is finally warming up to me? I hope so. It would be nice to have more than one friend.

  
"It's not as simple as you might think." Alfred continues. "You're going to do the assignment on a large, poster size graph paper. You will have to pick a theme and all the clues will have to pertain to that theme. What you're grade will be based on is all stated on that paper. It must be complete a week from now, and no school time will be dedicated to it. I thought that once it's done, we can have Bruce try to fill it out."

  
I grin and nod, already coming up with dozens of different themes I could do. I'm actually really excited about this assignment. I can't remember the last time Alfred gave me a fun assignment to do. He usually just gives me worksheets and assigns essays. The fact that Bruce is going to try to solve it afterwards just makes me more eager to work on it.

  
Alfred announces that I'm done with school for the day, and gets up to start on his other duties. I open one of my notebooks to a clean sheet of paper and begin to list all my theme ideas. It has to be a very general theme so I don't run out of clues. I check the assignment to see how many clues I need. Twenty-five clues down and twenty-five across. They have to be hard. Something that will make Bruce really have to think. It has to be something that he won't be able to finish in five minutes.

  
The doorbell rings. I jump from my seat and sprint towards the front hall.

  
"I've got it!" I shout. I slide across the tile floor in my socks to the front door. We rarely get visitors, so I'm curious to know who it could possibly be. I open the door to see a man who looks to be in his fifties with graying hair. He's dressed in black slacks and a blue button down. He looks down at me, surprise and interest gleaming in his eyes. I blush and look down at my feet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. It was stupid of me to answer the door. I don't like talking to strangers unless Bruce is with me. The man smiles so wide that it practically reaches his eyes.

  
"Hello there. My name is Philip Kane. I'm Bruce Wayne's uncle. Is he around?" The man says, his voice condescending like he's talking to a toddler. I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. Bruce has never mentioned an uncle before. I didn't think Bruce had any living relatives.

  
"He's at work." I say, nudging the door closed. Something seems strangely off about this guy. If he really is Bruce's uncle, why hasn't Bruce mentioned him before?

  
"I can wait until he gets home then. You're his ward, right?" Philip asks. I'm about to answer when Alfred comes up behind me.

  
"What are you doing here?" Alfred asks, his tone sounding almost accusing. He gently pushes me behind him, placing a protective arm between me and Philip. "You're supposed to be in Germany."

  
Philip's relaxed smile stays in place, his eyes still on me.

  
"I came to visit my nephew. I thought it was about time I met his mysterious ward." Philip explains. The way Philip looks at me gives me the shivers. It's like he's a hungry lion and I'm the juicy steak. I step behind Alfred so he can't see me as easily.

  
"You aren't welcomed here." Alfred says in a hard voice. I've never heard Alfred speak with so much venom in his voice. I'm not sure what Philip did, but whatever it is, it must have been pretty bad.

  
"Nonsense. Don't you think it's time to forgive and forget? I've changed. I'm no longer the man I used to be. I want to reconnect with my family." Philip says. "Also, I let the media know that I was visiting so if you don't invite me in, I'll make sure all of Europe and the States knows about how Bruce Wayne refused to see his elderly uncle. That won't look good for Wayne Enterprises, now will it?"

  
Philip's smile turns smug. While I can't see Alfred's face, I'm sure it's sour. After a tense moment, Alfred steps out of the way to let Philip in. I follow Alfred closely. I wish Bruce was here to deal with Philip. He would know what to do.

  
"Wait here. I will go call Master Bruce so he knows you're here. Master Dick, follow me." Alfred says in cold voice. He closes the front door and starts up the staircase. I follow right behind him, not wanting to be left alone with Philip.

  
Alfred leads me to Bruce's bedroom and opens the door for me.

  
"I need you to stay in here until Master Bruce tells you different. I'll bring up your schoolwork and I will bring your dinner up later." Alfred says. I would object, but Alfred looks so worried that I don't even argue. I just step into the room and slump down onto the bed. "It's very important that you don't leave this room."

  
"Don't worry. I won't." I answer. Alfred gives me a brief smile before closing the door shut. I let out a loud sigh and look around the room.

  
There must be something really terrible about Philip for Alfred to look so concerned. Philip talked about reconnecting with family, and forgiving and forgetting. He must have done something awful if it made Bruce and Alfred stop talking to him. Not only that, but Bruce has never even brought up having family somewhere. It's like Bruce decided one day that his uncle didn't exist.

  
Alfred brings up my school supplies not five minutes later. I spend the rest of the afternoon working on my crossword puzzle. I lay down on the bed with a pillow propped up under my arms and my notebook in front of me. I come up with several more themes before finally deciding on one; superheroes. I was tempted to go with the circus as my theme, but I thought that might be too predictable. Bruce is expecting me to make the puzzle all about the circus. I want to surprise him.

  
I really like superheroes too. When I was ten, Alfred found me this box of old superhero comics Bruce used to read as a kid. I found it really easy to relate to the characters because most of them are orphans like me. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I were a superhero. If I was braver, maybe I could be a superhero. There's so much crime in Gotham that sometimes I really think this city could use a hero. This is the real world though, and there are no superheroes in the real world. As much as I would like there to be.

  
I'm so busy working, that I don't even notice the hours fly by. At around 6:30 there's a knock at the door.

  
"Come in." I say as I flip through one of my notebooks. Alfred enters the room with my dinner. I sit up and he places the dinner tray on my lap.

  
"Grilled cheese and tomato soup." He states.

  
"Thanks Alfred." I say and take a large bite of the sandwich. "Is Bruce home yet?"

  
Alfred hesitates before answering, his eyes going from the doorway to me.

  
"He is, but he's not ready for you yet. Master Bruce will fetch you when he can." Alfred says. I groan impatiently. Bruce does this all the time. He's always hiding things from me, and it's not fair because I don't hide anything from him. Relationships are about trust and it feels like Bruce doesn't trust me.

  
"Fine." I grumble. Alfred doesn't spare me another look before leaving the room. I eat my dinner in silence, trying to figure out what Bruce and Philip could possibly be talking about. It must be something serious if it's taking such a long time.

  
After I finish eating, I move the empty tray to the nightstand and get back to work. Hours seem to pass, and at some point I abandoned my schoolwork to doodle instead. There's a light knock on the door. I look up to see Bruce slowly enter the room. I drop my pen and sit up at the sight of him.

  
"Bruce!" I practically shout. With a stranger walking around the house, it's good to see such a familiar face. Bruce doesn't look happy to see me though. Relieved maybe, but mostly he just looks concerned. He walks towards the bed, his eyes taking in every part of me.

  
"Dick. God, Dick." He breathes. Bruce pulls me into a tight hug. I wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his bulky shoulder. His grip is so tight that it hurts, but I don't complain. He holds me like he's desperate, like it's the last time he will ever be able to do this.

  
"What's wrong?" I ask. "Who is that man? He says he's your uncle."

  
There's a long silence before Bruce answers. As if he doesn't want to answer. He just continues to hold me, he standing and me kneeling on the bed.

  
"He is, but I haven't seen him in a long time. Come with me." He says against my ear. I can feel the heat of his breathe against my skin. It makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

  
We pull apart and Bruce leads me down the stairs to the sitting room. We don't often use this room because it's only used when Bruce has guests and he doesn't have a lot those. Bruce likes to keep our personal lives very private. For good reason too.

  
I can feel the tension in the air as soon as I enter the room. Alfred sits frowning in the armchair in the corner of the room and Philip on one of the couches. I notice how Alfred is sitting as far away from Philip as possible. Bruce takes a seat on the couch opposite of Philip and I'm quick to join him. I take the cashmere blanket off the side of the couch and wrap it around me. It's not that it's cold in here, it's that the blanket makes me feel protected. It makes me feel like no one can touch me.

  
"Dick, I want to properly introduce you to my uncle, Philip. Uncle Philip, this is Dick." Bruce says stiffly. I look over at Philip and then quickly look away. He's still watching me with that hungry look in his eyes. It reminds me of the way Bruce looks at me sometimes.

  
"It's so nice to finally meet you Dick. I've read all about you." Philip says with a smile. Under his gaze, I move a little closer to Bruce. Bruce watches Philip closely, his eyes going back and forth between the two of us.

  
"Good to meet you too." I mumble. I don't really sound like I mean it because, well, I don't. And if Bruce's and Alfred's faces are anything to go by, they don't think it's very good either.

  
"Well, now that that's done, I think it's time Dick went to bed." Bruce says quickly. He stands up and I follow his lead. Philip stands too, reaching a hand out to me.

  
"Bruce, wait. I've hardly been given a chance to talk to the boy." He objects, but Bruce isn't the kind of person you argue with. Bruce always gets what he wants, and for once, I want the same thing he does. He turns to Philip to give him a hard look.

  
"You're lucky to have been given a chance at all." Bruce says in a voice that matches his expression. "Alfred, please set up a room for Philip as far away from me and Dick as possible. Come Dick, it's past your bedtime."

  
Without another word, Bruce walks out of the room with me right on his tail. If I didn't think something was wrong before, I definitely know it now. I don't have a bedtime. I used to have a bedtime back when I was actually able to trust Bruce, but since then I haven't. I just go to sleep whenever we finish having sex. Usually with Bruce curled around me. Having Philip here clearly has put Bruce and Alfred on edge.

  
To my surprise, Bruce leads me to my own bedroom. I look up at him with a confused expression when he opens the door for me. He turns on the lamp on my nightstand so the room is bathed in a dim light. He sits down on my bed and pats the spot next to him. I join him and he puts an arm around my shoulders and uses his other hand to stroke my cheek.

  
"I need you to sleep in here tonight." Bruce says in a quiet voice.

  
"Why? Is it because of your uncle?" I ask as he brushes some of my hair off my face. I don't know why I'm questioning why I have to sleep alone tonight. I shouldn't be. I should be thrilled, but instead I'm thinking about how cold and alone I'll feel in this big bed all by myself.

  
"I just don't think it's the best idea that you sleep with me when we have a guest. You saw how Silver reacted the other day." Bruce answers. I look down at my lap in thought, biting my lower lip. This is the first time we've had a guest spend the night. I'm not sure I like it. Bruce lifts my chin so he can see my face. "People hate the things they don't understand."

  
"You think that's why Silver reacted the way she did? Because she didn't understand?" I ask. That's not why I thought she was so upset. I thought she was upset because what Bruce is doing is wrong.

  
"I don't think that's why. I know that's why. Silver was too narrow minded to understand our love." He tells me. I notice how he uses past tense instead of presence tense to describe Silver. I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means.

  
He lets go of my chin and I look away, lost in thought. I always thought Bruce having sex with me was wrong. It's always made feel empty and sad, but maybe I've been wrong this entire time. Maybe I've just been too small minded to really understand what this is. Maybe I hate what Bruce does to me because I just don't understand Bruce's love for me.

  
"Why do you and Alfred not like Philip?" I look up at him. Bruce avoids my gaze, pulling me closer to his side.

  
"It's complicated, Dick." He says. I know I should leave it at that. I know it's never a good idea to push Bruce, but I'm too curious. There's clearly more going on here than I know of.

  
"He said earlier that he wanted to reconnect with family. He said he's changed and that you and Alfred should forgive and forget. What did he do that you have to forgive and forget?" I push. Bruce sighs loudly, removing himself from me and standing up. He walks to the opposite side of the room before walking back. He looks down at his feet and crosses his arms.

  
"Philip lived with me and Alfred for a while after my parents died. Then he moved to Germany. That's all you need to know about it." He finally says. I shake my head at him.

  
"There's more though."

  
"And it's nothing you need to know about!" Bruce shouts, making me jump. He looks so angry that I instantly clam up, deciding to drop the subject. His eyes blaze with wrath and his hands are in tight fists. It scares me how he can get so angry so quickly.

  
After a long moment, Bruce lets out a deep breathe and runs his hands through his hair. He approaches me slowly and joins me on the bed. Silently, he pulls me towards him and onto his lap. Bruce only holds me like this when he one of us needs comfort. He needs that now. I nuzzle his neck and breathe in his scent. Bruce rubs small circles on my back.

  
"I'm sorry. I just don't want him here." He says quietly. I nod against his neck. I wonder if Bruce has more family that he hasn't told me about, but I'm not going to ask him now. Not when he's so on edge.

  
He pulls my face away from his neck and lightly presses his lips against mine. Bruce cups my cheek as he lightly nips at my lower lip. I expect the kiss to continue, but instead he pulls away. He presses his face against my neck and inhales. I allow him to hold me for however long he needs to. I whisper to him that everything is going to be alright, because I know that's what Bruce needs to hear. 


	12. Under The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was super hard to write, but still enjoyable. I really hope you guys like it. By the way, I love reading your comments. I feel like I've said all this before, but they really make me so happy.

I turn in my bed and pull the blankets over my head. I reach out to the spot next to me and feel nothing but miserable emptiness. I shouldn't be sleeping alone. Someone else should be here with me. The bed is too big for just one person. I feel cold and alone. I've never noticed how lonely the darkness could be. The moon shines through the window, bathing my room in a silvery light.

  
I adjust my pillow and glance at the glowing alarm clock on my nightstand. It's one in the morning. That means I've spent the last four hours trying and failing to fall sleep. I'm just not used to sleeping by myself anymore. It feels wrong, almost unnatural. I miss Bruce and the way he would press his front against my back. How he would wrap his arms around me and I would feel his breath against my neck. I would like that so badly right now. I would like to be reminded that I'm not alone.

  
I know that I need Bruce in my life, but I think I need him even more than I realize. I've become so used to his presence, that the world doesn't even seem right when he's not around. Whenever he's not with me, I wish that he is. Is it normal to miss someone who has brought me so much pain? Is there something wrong with me? To care for someone as much as I do for Bruce, even though he's done some really awful things to me? I'm not sure that's normal. Whether my feelings are right or wrong doesn't matter. I still feel the way I do.

  
The creak of a door opening distracts me from my thoughts. I turn over in my bed so I'm facing the doorway. There's a tall silhouette standing there. I can hear the heavy, impatient breathing. The figure is still and although I cannot see the eyes, I know they're watching me.

  
"Bruce?" I whisper, but I know it's not him. I know what Bruce looks like down to the smallest details. I've seen every part of him. I know the shape of his muscular arms and his sculpted chest. I know the broadness of his strong jaw and his ice cold eyes. I know the thickness of his fingers and the overwhelming largeness of his hands. I know his legs, his shoulders, the way he breathes. I can pick Bruce out in a crowd of hundreds of people. That's how well I know Bruce. That's how I know that the person standing at my doorway is not Bruce.

  
The man is silent as he approaches me. I grip the blankets tightly, fear clawing at my stomach. Maybe if this was Bruce it would be okay. It would be normal, typical. Bruce is different from everyone else. He cares about me, he loves me, I know Bruce. I can't say the same for this man.

  
"Please go away." I beg. The man stops in front of the bed. I don't dare look away.

  
"Sshh. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk." He whispers. I feel the mattress sink a little as he sits on the edge of the bed. The moonlight hits his face, his gray eyes glowing brilliantly. Philip smiles what I think is supposed to be friendly, but it feels more threatening. I shift farther away from him.

  
"About what?"

  
"About you of course. You're the whole reason I came here." Philip says, his grin widening.

  
"I am? Why?" I hear myself saying. I should tell Philip to leave. I should tell him that this isn't the right time to have a conversation. He can ask me anything he likes in the morning. When I'm not in my bed trying to sleep. But I know Bruce and he barely let Philip look at me earlier. Much less talk to me. While Philip does give me the creeps, I also have lots of questions that Bruce refuses to answer. Maybe Philip can answer them for me.

  
"I just had to know you Dick. We're practically family. I have so many questions for you." He says. I watch Philip's hands resting at his side. I'm waiting for the slightest movement, the smallest sign of him reaching out to touch me. Sneaking into someone's room at night can only mean so many things. In my experience, it doesn't mean anything good.

  
"What do you want to know about me?" I ask hesitantly. With the light of the moon hitting Philip's face the way it is, it makes his smile look even more sinister.

  
"Tell me about how your parents died. I mean, I've read it in the papers, but I want to hear the story from you." He demands, his expression changing to one of thrill and hunger. I shudder in my bed, wishing he would ask me anything else. I don't like talking about the death of my parents. I imagine no one would want to talk about such a matter. No one, that is, but Philip.

  
"Can we talk about something else?" I ask desperately.

  
"No." Philip says, his voice deepening. His fingers twitch, his gaze focused on me. "I need to hear the story from you."

  
"Okay." I say and take a shaky breathe. I don't want to make Philip angry. I'm not sure if he gets angry the same way Bruce does, but I don't want to find out. I'll just try to make the story brief. "We were putting on a show here in Gotham. Dad was swinging, Mom leaped and grabbed his hands, and then-"

  
I choke up so badly that I can't even continue talking. Instead, I shove my face into my pillow so I can hide my tears. I can still picture every moment of it. I can still see how my parents' faces went from exhilaration to horror. I can still hear the snap of the rope breaking, and the awful crunch of their skulls as they smashed against the ground. I try and fail to hold back a sob, my hands clutching at the pillow. I'm so distracted with trying to hold back my tears that I hardly notice a hand placed on my back.

  
"Don't cry. That must have been so horrible for you. I can't even imagine what it must be like to watch your own parents fall to their deaths. No child should have to lose their parents at such a young age. I remember how Bruce was after his parents died. He was such a lonely, miserable little boy." Philip says, his voice lower than a whisper now. My crying slows at his words, intrigued at the mention of Bruce as a child. Bruce's childhood is such a mystery to me. I would love to know as much as I can about it. Maybe by understanding his childhood, I can understand Bruce.

  
"Bruce said you lived with him and Alfred for a while after his parents died. Why did you leave?" I ask. I peek up at Philip, his smile turning into a prideful smirk. The hand on my back presses down more forcefully.

  
"Alfred made me leave. Between you and me, I think he was jealous of how close Bruce and I were." He says. Panic and fear stir in my stomach. I don't like the way he's looking at me.

  
"What do you mean when you say you guys were close?" I ask. There are so many different ways you can be close to someone. You can be good friends, or close as a family, or close in a much more intimate way. Close the way Bruce and I are. I hope that isn't the kind of close relationship Philip is talking about.

  
"How about I show you what I mean?" Philip says. I hardly let out a breath before he's on top of me, his hands flipping me over so I'm on my back. I would scream but the dark shadow is too fast. His mouth is quickly on mine, a tongue trying to find its way into my mouth.

  
The lips feel unfamiliar and wrong. They're smaller than I'm used to and his tongue licks at my mouth like a dog. I shake under his weight, his hands pressing down on my shoulders. I push at his chest, but I'm not as strong as he is. It's when the hands start moving down my body, the fingers sliding under my shirt that I realize how far Philip plans to take this.

  
The room is filled with the rustling of blankets and Philip's loud panting. I hope it's enough to wake Bruce up. I would call for him, but Philip's mouth is still pressed against mine. His tongue is determined to invade my mouth. I try to turn my head away several times before managing to do so. His lips leaves kisses on my jaw. Just as a hand finds its way into my sweatpants, I find my voice and yell as loudly as I can.

  
"BRUCE! HELP! BRUCE!"

  
Philip's quick to clamp his hand over my mouth, shushing me angrily. His eyes burn furiously and the hand in my pants wraps around my soft cock. No. I will not let this happen. Philip cannot do this to me. It's one thing for Bruce to do this to me, it's another thing entirely for this stranger to try it.

  
I open my mouth and bite down on his hand. The room is suddenly filled with Philip's piercing scream. I press my teeth down as hard as humanly possible. I only try to bite harder when the metallic taste of blood hits my tongue. Philip continues to scream so loudly that I can barely hear my bedroom door opening. The room becomes obnoxiously bright when the light is turned on.

  
A moment doesn't even pass before Philip's lifted off of me. I sit up and wipe the blood away from my mouth. My eyes land on the chaos taking place on my bedroom floor. Bruce is on top of Philip, his fist stretching back and slamming into Philip's face over and over again. I can hear the horrible spurting of blood and crunching of Bruce's fist against bone and flesh. I can see the dark liquid splattering everywhere. It sprays onto the walls and all over the rug, so dark it almost looks black.

  
"You fucking asshole. You don't get to touch him. No one gets to touch him. He's mine. Do you hear me? He's mine. He's mine. He's mine. Dick is mine." Bruce says as he continues to attack Philip. I'm frozen in my spot, watching Bruce with a horrified expression. He's facing away from me so I can't see his face, but I'm sure he looks insane. I've never seen him act so animalistic. He's never been so possessive, so out of control. He's going to kill Philip if he doesn't stop.

  
Fortunately for Philip, Alfred enters the room. He's calm when he looks at Bruce and Philip, and then at me on the bed. Alfred understands the situation right away, quickly moving towards Bruce.

  
"Master Bruce, Sir, please. You must stop. You're going to kill him." Alfred says in a calming voice, his hand hovering over Bruce. Alfred has to repeat his name several times before Bruce seems to even hear him. Bruce slows down his beating, his fist faltering in the air before giving Philip one last good punch. A low, pained groan comes out of the beaten body.

  
"That's the point Alfred." Bruce says between heavy breathes.

  
"You can't, Sir. Think about Wayne Enterprises." Alfred points out. Bruce growls, slowly standing up and stepping away from Philip. He turns to me and my eyes widen at the sight of him. His face and hands are covered in Philip's blood. I've never seen him look so angry before. Bruce's jaw is clenched, sweat shines off his forehead, and his whole body trembles with rage.

  
But as his eyes settle on me, his face relaxes and his eyes soften. Bruce slowly stops shaking. He wipes some of the blood and sweat off his face, causing it to smear. He approaches me, his legs giving out when he reaches the edge of the bed. Bruce collapses onto his knees, a hand stretched out to me.

  
The way he looks at me. I don't know how to handle it. He seems so avid, so desirous for me. He looks at me like he's thirsty and I'm the last drop of water on the planet. I meet him halfway, my hand intertwining with his. I scoot closer to him and Bruce rests his head on my lap.

  
"I'm sorry. I should have been here for you. I'm sorry." He murmurs. I run my free hand through his blood soaked hair in an effort to soothe him.

  
There's a snigger from the floor where Philip sits. I look over at him and can't help but twist my face in disgust. However bad Bruce looks, it's nothing to how Philip looks. Blood the color of red wine gushes from his nose and left temple. It dribbles down his face and onto his white, cotton shirt. His lips are split in several places and are already swelling. Philip's right eye is swollen shut. I can already see the black and blues starting to form all over his face. And I always thought my bruises were bad.

  
Philip smiles, his teeth and lips a bloody mess. The way the blood smears upwards into a distorted smile makes me shiver. He lets out a painful chuckle. I feel nauseous just looking at him.

  
"I knew it. You're just like me, aren't you Bruce?" Philip spits out, blood and saliva spraying us. Bruce lifts his head and turns to look at him. I can see his eyes flare with anger at Philip's words.

  
"I'm nothing like you." Bruce says in a low voice. Philip's deformed grin only widens at Bruce's response.

  
"But you are. I heard you. I had no idea you could be so possessive. Tell me Bruce, do you do to him what I used to do to you?" Philip asks and snickers. I glance down at Bruce, wondering exactly what it is Philip used to do to him. I got an idea of what it was when Philip forced himself on me, but I get the feeling that there's more to it. I think it goes deeper than that.

  
"Shut up." Bruce says, his voice a near whisper. His eyes narrow menacingly. Philip takes this as an invitation to continue.

  
"Do you tie him to the bed and leave him there for hours? Do you let him whine and plead as you shove your fist up his ass? Do you lay him over your lap and smack him until he's raw and weeping? What about the urine one? Now that was classic."

  
Bruce shakes with every word, his hands curling into fists.

  
"Shut. Up." He answers through his teeth. I am so enamored by the conversation that I've completely forgotten that Alfred's in the room, running his hands through his hair with an upset expression.

  
"I wonder Bruce, do you remember those night as well as I do? Do they haunt your dreams? Does Dick respond the same way you did? You walk around like you're so much better than me, but you're not. You and I are the same."

  
"You're delusional! We are nothing alike." Bruce shouts. "I don't go around preying on damaged orphans. I don't eye children like their something for me to eat. I don't make eight year-olds repeat the story of how their parents were murdered just so I can get off. I love Dick! He's the only thing that matters to me! I don't try to hurt him! I only try to love him."

  
Bruce's voice breaks and his face seems to crumble into itself. I reach out and touch his shoulder. Bruce turns to me and I can see his eyes shimmer with tears. I didn't even know Bruce could get so upset. He's usually so stable, and if he's not stable then he's mad. But sad is something Bruce never is. I've never seen him look so devastated before.

  
He joins me on the bed and I wrap my arms around him as tightly as I can. Bruce hides his face in my neck, and whimpers the same words over and over again.

  
"I love him. He's mine. I love him. He's mine."

  
I glare at Philip over Bruce's head. All this time I've thought Bruce was the monster, but that is nothing compared to what Philip is. Philip is the reason why Bruce is the way he is. Philip's the one to blame. All Bruce ever tries to do is love me.

  
Philip watches us with a perplexed expression, but that bloody smile still remains. Alfred watches us closely from the corner of the room.

  
I'm surprised when Bruce composes himself so quickly, pulling away from me and turning to stand over Philip. His face is hard and cruel, any evidence of sorrow gone.

  
"Get out of my home." He commands. Philip laughs, looking from Bruce to Alfred.

  
"Think about Wayne Enterprises, Bruce. You're not going to look good if the media sees what you've done to me. I know you won't tell them the truth because that means you would have to admit to not being strong enough to protect yourself or your ward. And I know you would never admit to that." Philip responds with a smirk.

  
"I don't care about what the media thinks. I just want you out of our lives. Alfred can show you to the exit." Bruce says.

  
Alfred grabs Philip's arm, tugging him in the direction of the door. Philip cackles as he lets Alfred lead him out of the bedroom. That awful laugh continues as he goes, echoing throughout the house. I shut my eyes and wait for the sound to stop. Maybe my memories of tonight will leave with Philip.

  
I can feel Bruce's eyes on me when I look up. His gaze softens when our eyes meet.

  
"You're bleeding." He says in a concerned tone, coming closer to wipe the blood away from my mouth. "Did he do that to you?"

  
"Oh that? No. He, uh, put his hand over my mouth so I bit him." I say, and I can't help but smile. It felt so satisfying to make him bleed like that. It's the least he deserves. Bruce smiles too and chuckles lightly. He strokes my cheek lovingly.

  
"That's my boy." He says, pressing his forehead against mine. He kisses my temple. "My brave, good boy. You're mine. All mine."

  
Before I can answer, Bruce's mouth is on mine. His lips are hungry and demanding as he kisses and licks his way into my mouth. His hands curl around my neck like he's tempted to choke me. Bruce gasps and pants into my mouth. A hand runs down my back and to my ass, squeezing so hard that I gasp in pain. The blood left on his hands leaves a trail down my body. Bruce purrs, moving his mouth to my neck and biting down hard.

  
I cry out in agony as my warm blood spills. Bruce licks it up with a groan. The hand on my ass slips into my sweatpants. I hopelessly try to push Bruce away. I can't do this. Not tonight, not now. Too much has happened. I'm so exhausted, I need to sleep. Bruce is covered in blood. Out of all nights, this is the worst night to do this.

  
"Don't do this now, Bruce. Please don't." I whimper, but Bruce continues anyway.

  
"I need you. You're mine, Dick. You belong to me. You're mine."

 


	13. A Loud Quiet

My head is resting on his chest when I wake up. My soft dick is pressed against his stomach and one of my legs is wrapped around his waist. He has an arm around me, keeping me close. The blankets are in a pile on the floor. Sunlight streams through the window, spotlighting the blood stained floor and walls.

  
I close my eyes at the sight, wanting desperately to forget the previous night's events. But I can't ignore the reminder that's smeared all over me and Bruce. The dry blood all over Bruce's face and hands. He was so desperate last night, so needy that he didn't even bother to wash. Instead, he just forced himself on me.

  
I understand that Bruce was upset last night. Just thinking that he was once treated the way Philip described makes me feel sick. No one should have to go through that. I have trouble picturing strong and capable Bruce ever being in such a weak, hopeless position. I never thought someone could be more powerful than Bruce.

  
I run my hand down his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath my palm. Bruce's chest moves up and down with every breathe. It's amazing how peaceful he looks when asleep. Bruce's face relaxed, a light snoring filling the room. So different from how he looks when awake. I rub my cheek against his warm body.

  
How spoiled I've been to think Bruce that treats me badly. Yes, I might not have wanted to have sex last night, but it wasn't about me. I might have said no and begged him to stop, but maybe I was just being selfish. I've always thought Bruce didn't treat me right, but it's nothing to the way Bruce was treated by Philip when he was a child. My life is heaven compared to the hell Bruce has been through.

  
I've been so stupid to not realize how much Bruce loves me. So I don't want to have sex with Bruce, but how many times has Bruce pointed out that I'm the child and don't know what I want? He's been right this entire time. The only person who knows what I want is Bruce. He's the only one who knows what is best for me.

  
I can feel how his breathing pattern changes when he wakes up. I glance up to see Bruce watching me through tired eyes, a slight smile on his face.

  
"Good morning, love." Bruce murmurs, his eyes glued to mine.

  
"Morning." I respond. Bruce's gaze goes from me to the bedroom floor and walls. He goes from looking content to angry. His eyebrows pull together and his lips press into a flat line, as if he's just remembering what happened last night.

  
Bruce sighs loudly as he gently detaches himself from me. He sits up and turns away to place his feet on the floor. I curl up on my side, taking the pillow and using it to cover my exposed penis.

  
I wait for him to turn to me, to say something. I expect him to. I'm completely naked and open to him. Bruce usually likes to take advantage of situations like these. But he doesn't today. Instead, he stands up and begins to collect the discarded clothes off the floor. I lay there, feeling a confusing combination of both disappointment and relief.

  
"Alfred needs to clean this room. You need to shower. You're a mess." Bruce says, his voice absent of emotion. He avoids my gaze, looking everywhere else but at me. I sit up as he opens the bedroom door. "I expect you downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes."

  
It's the last thing Bruce says to me in days.

 

 

  
*****************

 

 

  
Over the next few days, I wait for Bruce to speak to me again. Or at least look at me. He doesn't do either of these things. Every morning we sit and have breakfast together, and Bruce spends the whole time on his phone or reading the paper. Every night he doesn't get home until hours after the sun has set and I'm tucked in bed. I continue to sleep in Bruce's bed. Partly because my room is filled with the stench of bleach after Alfred cleaned it of the blood, and also because it's what I'm used to. Bruce doesn't even touch me though. It's like he doesn't even know I'm there. It's so strange.

  
I don't understand. Did I do something wrong? I rack my brain for something I might have said or done recently that could have upset him. I can't come up with anything, but even if I could, it still wouldn't make any sense. Bruce has never acted this way towards me before, no matter what awful things I've said to him.

  
One afternoon, I'm working on an algebra worksheet with Alfred when I suddenly put my pencil down.

  
"Why is Bruce ignoring me?"

  
"Is he? I haven't noticed." Alfred answers, his eyes glued to the textbook he's reading. I know Alfred's lying. It's impossible not to notice how Bruce has been avoiding me.

  
"Is he upset with me? It's like I'm invisible." I say with a sigh. Alfred glances at me quickly before looking back at the textbook.

  
"Master Bruce has been very busy recently. Philip's visit has caused a lot of problems for Wayne Enterprises." He says. I bite my lower lip in worry.

  
"You mean because Bruce beat him up?"

  
"Yes. Apparently Philip was serious about telling the public about that." Alfred explains. Panic grips me, my eyes going wide.

  
"He didn't tell them about...well, you know, did he?" I ask, too embarrassed to say the words out loud. I can't even imagine what I would do if everyone found out about me and Bruce. The police would take me away and put me into foster care. I would have to be without Bruce, and I can't be without Bruce. It's just not possible.

  
"If he had, you would know." Alfred says and rolls his eyes. "Philip knows that if he tells the media about you and Master Bruce, the truth about him would also come out. I suspect that the two of you haven't been Philip's only victims. Philip is guilty of a lot more than Master Bruce is."

  
I think about Alfred's words. It would be so easy for the entire world to find out the truth about me and Bruce. All it would take is for Philip, or even Silver to tell someone. That is, to say, if Silver's even alive somewhere. Apparently, her whereabouts are still unknown.

  
Bruce and I, we're walking on a tightrope. All it would take is one little push for us to go tumbling down.

  
"Okay, but that doesn't explain why Bruce has been ignoring me the way he has." I say. Alfred sighs with frustration, looking up from his book to give me a hard glare.

  
"This is really not the time for this conversation. Get back to your work." He says. I can tell Alfred's losing his patience with me, so I pick up my pencil and redirect my attention back to the worksheet.

  
"Do you think it's maybe because-"

  
"Enough, Master Dick!" Alfred shouts, making me jump in my seat. My face goes red as Alfred glowers at me. I chew on my lower lip, an overwhelming feeling of stupidity and disappointment pouring over me. I should have known Alfred's kindness wouldn't last. Not only is Bruce upset with me now, but so is Alfred. I have no one to go to anymore. I'm alone.

 

 

***************

 

 

  
I smile, feeling almost proud of myself. I put the cap back on the black Sharpie and roll off the floor to look at my completed work. I stand up and look down at my finished crossword puzzle. It was a lot harder to make than I thought it was going to be. Coming up with the clues was easy, but drawing up the puzzle itself was a challenge. It was worth it though, especially since this means that now Bruce has to solve it. Or at least, I hope he will. He might just pretend I don't exist.

  
I don't waste any time showing Alfred my completed assignment, who is very pleased with my work. I stand there, beaming triumphantly as Alfred looks it over. He says I could have Bruce do it whenever, but that's going to be a little hard considering that Bruce never seems to be home anymore. I decided that I'll stay up late until whenever Bruce comes home and approach him then. It's not like we can go on forever not speaking to one another. Eventually, Bruce has to acknowledge me again. He does, right?

  
The real surprise to all of this is how long Bruce and I have gone without having sex. It's been almost a week now. We've never gone this long before. I think our record before this was two days. While part of me does feel relieved about this, a larger part of me feels like something's missing. Like this just isn't normal. It feels like Bruce and I should be having sex. That's just our norm.

  
I don't think I've ever felt this miserable before. Even when Bruce and I have sex, I still don't feel as sad as I do now. At least Bruce is talking to me then, but now he doesn't even acknowledge me. I can't help but think to myself that maybe Bruce has stopped loving me. Maybe what I always feared would happen has finally happened. Bruce doesn't care about me anymore.

  
Just the thought of Bruce not wanting me anymore makes me want to cry. I don't know what I would do without him. I'm nothing without him. A week ago, Bruce held me and kissed me and told me he needed me. The next morning, he acted like I was just part of the furniture. Like I meant nothing. It doesn't make any sense.

  
Bruce needed me that night. Now I need him, but he's not here for me.

 

 

****************

 

 

I sit in the front hall, leaning against the wall and reading the current novel Alfred has assigned me for English. The lamp on the side table next to me is the only light on in the entire manor. Everywhere else is shrouded in its usual darkness, but I sit in the dim light. I've been sitting here for almost six hours now, my butt going numb from being in the same position for too long.

  
Alfred went to bed two hours ago, insisting that I also call it a night. I refused. I want to show Bruce my crossword puzzle tonight. I know it's silly to care this much about some stupid puzzle, but it means something to me. I worked really hard on this assignment. The entire time I worked on the puzzle, I kept thinking about Bruce solving it. It's what made me want to do the assignment in the first place. I want Bruce to be proud of me again. I want him to look at me again. To talk to me. I think this crossword can start that.

  
I can't wait around for Bruce to break the silence first anymore. I'm too lonely for that. I need to approach him, and this crossword puzzle gives me the perfect excuse to. So I'll stay up for however late I need to. Even if it is eleven at night and I'm struggling to stay awake. I refuse to fall asleep until Bruce gets home.

  
I don't even know what he could still be doing at the office at this time. They're supposed to be closed by now. I know Bruce owns the business and everything, but is it even possible that he's still working? He's been there since nine this morning. I've never known anyone to work as hard as Bruce does. It's incredible, really.

  
The clicking of the door being unlocked snaps me out of my thoughts. I watch the front door intently as I put my book down by my side. My large crossword puzzle sits next to it. The door opens and a ruffled, exhausted looking Bruce steps through the entrance. He doesn't even see me sitting there.

  
I watch him close the door and run a hand through his hair. Now that he's here, I'm hesitant to make my presence known. It was so much easier to say I was going to confront Bruce when he wasn't here. It's another thing to do it when he's standing right there in all his greatness and intimidation.

  
"B-Bruce?" I stutter in a quiet voice. For the first time in days, Bruce's eyes meet mine, if only for a moment. Then he looks away again, as if he has more important things to think about than me.

  
Without answering, he walks past me and turns a dark corner. I snatch up my book and crossword puzzle, rushing to follow him. I can't stand getting the cold shoulder anymore. I need Bruce to answer me, even if it's only a one word response.

  
Bruce stops at his office door, me right on his heels. He ignores me as he steps into the office and takes off his suit jacket. He throws it onto the love seat and puts his briefcase down on his desk with a loud slam. Is he really go to work some more? Hasn't he done that enough today?

  
I stand by the entrance, my palms beginning to sweat. I watch as Bruce sits at his desk and turns on his laptop. The only sound is the laptop starting up.

  
"Um, uh, Bruce?" I try again. I wait for a response, but Bruce doesn't even look up at me. He's too focused on the computer screen. I chew my lower lip nervously. "I wanted t-to show you this assignment I did. It's a crossword puzzle, and I was hoping you would solve it. You know, if you want to. If that's alright."

  
The paper crinkles in my hand and a drop of sweat falls down my forehead. I feel so stupid for getting this nervous. It isn't a big deal. It's just Bruce. It's just Bruce.

  
"I really don't have time for this right now, Dick." He finally answers, his eyes not wavering from the bright screen. It might not be the response I was hoping for, but it's better than nothing. At least he isn't ignoring me completely.

  
"Well maybe later then? Do you know when you would be able to look at it?" I ask, closing the office door and stepping farther into the room. Bruce sighs loudly and rubs his eyes. The closer I get, the more I notice a strong smell coming off of Bruce. It sends a pang through my chest when I realize what the scent is. It's the smell of perfume.

  
"I don't know. I'm very busy." Bruce says impatiently. I push the crossword puzzle onto his desk, which I know is a mistake when Bruce shoots me a death glare.

  
"I understand. I'll just leave it here until you have the time." I say, my mouth going dry. Bruce continues to glare at me. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

  
"I don't have the time, Dick." He says in a hard voice. I don't know why I decide to push Bruce farther. I know it's not going to lead to anything good. Maybe it's because of how he's been treating me this past week. Or maybe it's because he talks about how busy he is, yet he's obviously not too busy to find the time for some woman. Either way, I can't seem to keep my mouth shut.

  
"Well, maybe instead of fooling around with some random woman, you can take that time and do my crossword." I answer. Bruce's fingers tapping against the keyboard freezes at my words. My hands shake as Bruce snaps the laptop closed, his frown deepening. His eyes flicker down to the crossword puzzle. My breathing quickens when he gently picks it up, studying it.

  
"Get out." He says in a low voice. I take a step back.

  
"Bruce, I'm-"

  
"I said get out, Dick." I don't argue any farther. Instead, I turn around and try to calmly walk towards the door. I know when Bruce is about to lose control of his temper. I know when it's best to just apologize and shut your mouth. Now is most definitely one of those times.

  
It isn't until the next morning that I find my crossword puzzle in little scraps in the trash can. All my hard work, torn up into little pieces like its nothing. Just like me.

 

 

****************

 

 

I show Alfred what's left of my crossword puzzle. I try to explain that Bruce is responsible for its current condition, but Alfred's not hearing any of that.

  
"You have no excuses, Master Dick. Don't try to blame others for your failures." He tells me in harsh tone without an ounce of sympathy. He's right, of course. I've failed once again, and I have no one to blame but myself. I should have known better than to bother Bruce like I did. I shouldn't have stayed up and waited for him at all. I should just accept that Bruce doesn't want anything to do with me anymore.

  
It's only a matter of time now before he gets rid of me. Any day now he'll tell me how he no longer wants me and that he's giving me up for adoption. It's not like it's an unheard of thing. Parents do give up their kids for adoption because they decide they don't love them anymore. I'm sure that it happens. I'm sure that it's happening to me.

  
That night, I curl up in Bruce's bed and have to force myself not to cry. Who knows how many more nights I have left in this manor. I have to try to remember every little detail while I can. I have to try to remember how Bruce's scent lingers on the comforter and pillows, the taste of Alfred's freshly made waffles, and the color of Bruce's eyes. How they often remind me of the color of blue, frozen ice.

  
For years I thought I was unlucky to live here with Bruce. I thought having sex with Bruce was this awful, terrible thing. I know better now. I know how much worse things could actually be. How much worse Bruce had it. I have someone who loved me, who cared for me. How many people can say the same?

  
I've lived in a large, beautiful home. I eat home cooked meals every day, and I'm always dressed in the best clothes money can buy. Everything I own is made out of the best material and smells nice. But what means more to me than any of that other stuff is the fact that I had someone who wanted to be with me forever. Someone who wanted to marry me and spend the rest of their life with me. This entire time I've been so lucky and I haven't even realized it.

  
I need to remember all these things, so that no matter what happens, I will always have these memories to comfort me.

  
I turn over in the bed to look at the large figure laying on the opposite side. Bruce is turned away from me, laying as far away from me as possible. And that's really saying something when you're sleeping on a king sized bed. I could reach my hand out and I still wouldn't be able to touch him.

  
"Bruce?" I whisper into the darkness, waiting for a response. I watch the figure breathing. "Are you awake?"

  
I wait for Bruce to answer, but there is none. He's asleep and I'm thankful for that. I don't think I would be able to say these next words if he was awake.

  
"I know you can't hear me, but I have some things that I just really need to say. I wanted to say thank you." I start in a low whisper. I take a deep breathe before continuing. "I know you don't love me anymore. That's why you've been acting the way you have this past week. I don't know what I did wrong. I've only ever tried to be what you wanted me to be. I've only ever tried to make you proud. I guess it just wasn't enough. It's okay though. I forgive you. I know I'm not the easiest person to love. I do some really stupid things and I always mess up. I've yelled at you and called you a monster, and all you ever did was forgive me and love me."

  
I have to stop talking for a moment to focus on not crying. I can hear the tears in my voice. I'm glad Bruce can't hear how weak I sound right now. How much I sound like a stupid child.

  
"You gave me a home, and comfort, and love. You were there for me when I was at my worst. So, just, thank you Bruce. Without you, I don't know where I'd be." The tears begin to roll down my face. I sniffle and wipe them away with the back of my sleeve. "You've been ignoring me, and it just makes me feel so lonely and sad. I miss you so much. I'm sorry for all the times I didn't treat you with the respect you deserve. I guess I've never realized how good I have it. I don't know what happened that made you not love me anymore. Maybe it has something to do with what Philip said? You know, I don't think any less of you because of what he used to do to you. You couldn't stop him from doing that. That stuff...it wasn't your fault. You were right, Bruce. You are better than him. You are so much more than Philip ever will be."

  
I can't stop myself from sobbing any longer. It's embarrassing and awful, and I don't even realize how much louder I am now than I was before. I don't care. I'm going to miss Bruce so much when he sends me away. I don't want him to send me away. I don't want to be apart from Bruce.

  
"I don't want to leave you. I want to stay here with you. I-I love you, Bruce. I thought that you loved me."

  
I let myself cry freely, my entire body shaking as I continue to sob. I love him and I haven't realized it until now. In spite of everything he's done to me, I really do love him. I love Bruce, but now it's too late.

  
I roll over so I'm facing away from him again. I shove my head into my pillow in an effort to stifle my tears. I don't know how much time passes as I cry. It could be minutes, it could be hours. All I know is that my crying comes to an abrupt end when I feel the mattress shift beneath me. I can hear his light breathing. When he puts a warm hand on my shoulder, I almost start crying again.

  
He takes that hand and wraps it around my torso, pulling me towards him. I sob in relief when I feel Bruce pressed against me. I feel his lips touch my neck. It dawns me on how much I've really, truly missed this. I didn't even know it was possible to miss someone as much as I have Bruce. It feels so good to be held by him again. Being in his arms? It feels like coming home.

  
"I would never get rid of you. I love you, Dick. That will never change."


	14. Proving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is a chapter I had a lot of trouble writing. I hope you guys like it.

The headboard I'm holding bangs against the wall as Bruce slams into me. I look over my shoulder to see Bruce with his eyes closed, a look of bliss on his face. He thrusts in and I let out a loud moan. His hands hold my hips so tightly he's bound to leave bruises. Bruce's dick ramming into me hurts so much that I want him to stop, but at the same time I want him to continue. I'm used to the way it hurts. It's the way it should be. It's supposed to hurt, right?

  
"So good, baby boy. You were made for this, Dick. You were made to have my cock up your ass, weren't you?" Bruce growls against my ear, pressing against my back. I whimper and nod, too overwhelmed to speak. It's just too much. He's so big and I don't think can handle it.

  
My knees shake and I feel like I'm going to collapse under Bruce's weight. A hand wraps around my leaking cock and I let out a high pitch whimper. Bruce chuckles as he licks and sucks at the back of my neck. He nibbles on the little bump I have there and I cry out in pain. Bruce's groans turn deeper, his hips speeding up. His breathing become shallow and the hand holding my cock twists.

  
I gasp in surprise, coming all over Bruce's hand. He moans in response, and then I feel the warm, sticky liquid fill me up. I chew on my lower lip as Bruce continues to move against me until he's soft. A small voice in my head tells me that this isn't right. That this shouldn't be happening. I ignore that voice, because I'm too young to know what should or shouldn't be happening. I have to listen to Bruce on these matters.

  
I let out a sigh of relief when Bruce finally pulls out of me. My knees give out and I collapse onto my stomach. I can feel the cum dribble down my thighs. Bruce leans over to turn off the lamp and the room is shrouded in darkness again. That's good. It's better when it's dark. It's easier to talk to Bruce when it's dark. It makes me less nervous to talk to him because I can't see his stony expression as clearly.

  
He takes me by the shoulders and turns me over. His grip is a little too tight and it makes me wince in pain. Bruce wraps his arms around my waist before rolling us over so now I'm on top him. I lay my head down under his chin, holding any part of him I can reach and nuzzling my cheek against his chest. I hear Bruce sigh with content. He runs a gentle hand up and down my bare back.

  
"You're amazing." he says quietly. I smile, my entire body lighting up at the praise. "Tell me you love me again."

  
I look up at him, a slight smile playing on my lips. Even in the darkness, I can still see those beautiful eyes.

  
"I love you." I whisper. Bruce's face glows at these words and he kisses my forehead lightly. I put my head back down and listen for the steady beating of his heart.

  
"Good boy. You're always so good for me." Bruce purrs, a hand reaching up to massage my scalp. I lean into his touch, Bruce watching with a smirk. I close my eyes and breath in deeply, inhaling his scent. Amazing how things could change so much in one day. Just two hours ago, Bruce wouldn't even look at me, and now he's all over me.

  
It's a good thing that this happened. It's a good thing that Bruce was really awake when I was talking about how I feel. If he had been asleep, none of this would have happened. I think it's better this way. This is how things are supposed to be. This is what I need. That's what Bruce says, and Bruce knows what's best for me. I am happy this happened. I really am. I feel better when Bruce I get along, I really do. I just don't like having sex.

  
"Can I ask you a question?" I ask in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. If I do, I'll lose my courage.

  
"Depends on what the question is." Bruce answers.

  
"Why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?" I ask nervously. I have to fist my hands to stop them from shaking. I can feel Bruce stiffen at my question. The room grows still.

  
"Why did you have to ruin the moment, Dick?" He says, the frustration clear in his tone. I press my lips together, angry with myself. It was stupid of me to bring it up. I should have just pretended that it never happened.

  
I'm surprised when Bruce grabs me by the waist, and pulls away so I land on the bed next to him. I hadn't realized how cold it actually was in here without Bruce's body heat. I tug at the blankets and pull them over my naked body. I look over at Bruce, but he's turned his back to me again.

  
"Why do you always have to ruin everything?" Bruce asks bitterly. I shut my eyes tightly and chew on my lower lip. Bruce is right, of course. I do ruin everything. I can't do anything right. I try so hard to be perfect for Bruce, buts it's pointless. I'll never be good enough.

  
"I'm sorry. I'm trying to be better, I really am." I plead with him. I wish he would turn back around and face me again. I wish Bruce would reassure me that everything's okay and he loves me. A few seconds ago that's exactly what Bruce was doing, but then I had to go and mess things up.

  
"Sometimes I don't think you are." He insists. I sit up at his words, wincing because of how sore my butt is.

  
"But I am! Please, Bruce." I beg, ashamed of how desperate I sound. Bruce rolls over so to look at me, his eyes sparkling. A smile tugs at his lips.

  
"Do you really love me?" He asks.

  
"Yes."

  
"Are you really trying to be better?"

  
"Yes!"

  
"Prove it." He says. Bruce strokes my cheek, his gaze washing over me. The way he's looking at me sends a shiver down my spine. I swallow loudly.

  
"How?" I ask. His eyes flicker down. Bruce sits up so he's leaning against the headboard. He looks down at me and grins.

  
"I'm hard again." Bruce whispers, a glint in his eyes. I look down to his lap to see his thick, intimidating cock standing up with attention. I begin to tremble.

  
"I don't like doing that." I whimper, sinking into the bed. I know what Bruce wants from me, but I don't like it. I absolutely hate it.

  
"You love me, don't you?" He asks, looking concerned. I nod. "And you want to prove it, don't you?"

  
I hesitate before nodding again. His hand brushes against my jaw, watching me with admiring eyes. I close my eyes at his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin.

  
"So do this for me. As your proof. Or else, I might think you don't love me." Bruce says. I open my eyes, feeling conflicted. I do love Bruce and I want to prove it to him, but not in that way. I don't want to do that. I feel like I can't breath when I do that. It feels like I'm suffocating when I'm forced to do that.

  
"I do love you, but-"

  
"Only if you do this will I know you love me, Dick." Bruce interrupts, his grip on my jaw tightening and squeezing. I whimper in pain, struggling to get away. Bruce lets go and I sigh in relief, rubbing at my jaw. My vision clouds with tears, both because my jaw hurts and because of what I'm about to do. I rub my eyes and tell myself to be brave. I can do this. I love Bruce and I'll do anything to prove it to him. I take in a deep, shaky breathe. Bruce watches me carefully.

  
"Are you ready?" He asks. I nod, because it's easier than speaking. "Then you know what to do."

  
I continue to nod as Bruce looks at me expectedly. I force myself onto my hands and knees, and crawl in between Bruce's legs. Bruce watches me with cold eyes as I lay down on my stomach. The hard cock sits right between my eyes, waiting for me impatiently. The familiar liquid is already leaking out of the tip. It's long, veiny, and doesn't belong in my mouth.

  
"I'm waiting!" Bruce says with exasperation. My eyes flicker up to his awaiting face and then back down to his cock. It's now or never.

  
I open my mouth and ever so slowly lick the tip. A bitter taste hits my tongue and I force myself to swallow. Bruce sighs loudly.

  
"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to prove your love." He says. I take another deep breathe before licking my way from the tip to the base. The hair there tickles my face. Treat it like a lollipop, Bruce once said to me. I can do that. I hear Bruce let out a quiet moan. A large hand curls around my head, gently fisting my hair. I wrap my lips around the tip. Before I can do anything else, another hand clutches at my hair, his grip tightening immensely.

  
Then he's thrusting and the cock hits the back of my throat. I lay there, my hands scrambling and feeling like I'm going to throw up. He pushes my head forward as he continues to pump into my mouth. I choke and struggle to breath as Bruce moans and mutters.

  
"That's it. My good, sweet boy. My little boy, such a good slut. My good, little cock slut."

  
I feel tears spring to my eyes and before I know it, I'm sobbing as Bruce slams his dick down my throat. I'm not even doing anything anymore, I feel like I'm just laying here. This doesn't seem to bother Bruce, because he continues to moan and whisper dirty things to me. I just want this to be over. I need this to be over. I can't breath.

  
I can feel the dick pulsing in my mouth, and then a bitter and salty taste shoots down my throat. I choke and gag and cry as Bruce demands me to swallow. It makes my entire being shiver in disgust as I force it down. It could have only lasted a couple of seconds, but it seems to go on for much longer than that. I can feel the cock soften against my tongue and I'm grateful for it. Bruce's grip on my hair loosens, and I let him drag my mouth off his cock. A long string of saliva goes from my mouth to Bruce's dick. I quickly wipe it away.

  
Bruce opens his arms to me with a pleased smile, and I crawl up against the familiar body. He wraps himself around me as I make myself comfortable against his chest. A gentle hand runs through my hair.

  
"That was wonderful, Dick. I knew you could do it." He praises me. I can't help but beam at his compliment. I made Bruce proud and that's all I've ever wanted.

  
"Did I prove my love to you?" I ask eagerly. Bruce hums happily.

  
"You did. I know for sure that you love me now, and that you're trying to be better." He answers. I feel like I'm glowing from the inside out at his words. The tear tracks on my cheeks have dried and the terrible taste of Bruce's cum lingers in my mouth. I might have hated sucking Bruce's cock, but at least he knows how much I love him now. It's worth it for that. My suffering is worth it for that.

  
"Good, because I do." I say, snuggling in closer. Bruce pulls the blankets over us.

  
"I have good news. Lucius Fox, you've met Lucius before, remember?" I nod. I recall meeting the elderly, dark skinned man that works for Bruce once or twice. "Anyway, he called me and told me that my uncle Philip is being sent back to Germany and being placed into an asylum."

  
I look up at Bruce in surprise. I know that Philip's an awful person, but I didn't think he was crazy. Although, I guess it makes sense since he was laughing like a lunatic when Bruce kicked him out.

  
"An asylum? Really?" Bruce looks down at me with a satisfied smirk.

  
"Yep. Philip is very mentally unstable. I'm fact, he's so unstable that he is convinced that I beat him to the brink of death." Bruce says with a chuckle. I pull my eyebrows together in confusion.

  
"But you did do that." I answer slowly.

  
"Not according to the court. They're under the impression that Philip caused his own injuries and then accused me of trying to kill him." He explains. That doesn't make any sense though. This story has too many holes in it. Like for one, how could Bruce have brought this case to court so quickly?

  
"I don't understand. How did you do it?" I ask.

  
"Dick, do you forget who I am? I'm Bruce Wayne. I'm Gotham's prince. I can do anything. I own this city." Bruce says smugly. He's right, of course. Whatever Bruce wants, he gets. No questions asked. I should know that better than anyone else.

  
"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that Philip's locked up. A person like that shouldn't be able to roam free." I say, after I've had a moment to think about it. Philip is an awful person and he should be locked up. So I guess it's good that Bruce had him put in an asylum. A prison would be more fitting for Philip, but an asylum works too. As long as he can't hurt anyone else. Bruce lifts my chin with a finger, our eyes meeting.

  
"You're right, Dick. A person like Philip shouldn't be walking free. He's right where he belongs now. He will never bother us again." He says in a steady voice. I smile, feeling much safer knowing that Philip can't touch us.

  
"Now, I think it's time to rest. I can't keep you up all night." Bruce says, pulling me in closer. I wrap my arms around his broad chest and close my eyes.

  
It's amazing to think about how much has changed in one day. Just this morning Bruce wouldn't lay a finger on me, and now we're wrapped up in each other's arms. I woke up this morning thinking Bruce didn't love me anymore, but now I know for sure that he does. I fall asleep smiling to myself, happy to know that I still have a home with Bruce.

 


	15. Happy

Bruce stands in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully combing his hair back. I sit on the toilet seat next to him, watching him closely. I'm wearing Bruce's pajama pants and a soft sweatshirt that hangs off my body because of how big they are. Bruce looks as handsome and as charming as ever in his black suit. He looks just like the man I always see in the papers. The man that flirts with all the women and flashes the cameras his sparkling white smiles.

  
Sometimes, I wish Bruce really was that man everyone else sees, but then I tell myself that it isn't right to think that way. I shouldn't think badly of Bruce. My life here with him is good. He loves me and I love him. Bruce gives me the best of everything, and sometimes I forget that. I have to remind myself how much I've been blessed.

  
“It's not fair.” I say, continuing our conversation from earlier. “You always go to these stupid party things.”

  
“I told you Dick, it's not just another stupid party. It's a gala in Commissioner Gordon's honor, and trust me when I say I'd much rather spend the night here with you." Bruce says, his eyes glued to his reflection. He puts the comb down and straightens out his tie. I follow him out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom.

  
"So don't go then. Say you're busy or something." I say. I wish Bruce were home more often. It feels like he's always out. It makes me feel lonely and sad. I don't have anyone to talk to when Bruce isn't here. All I have is Alfred, and most of the time Alfred's unhappy with me. Between work and parties and galas, Bruce always has a reason to leave the house.

  
"I can't just not go. People expect me to be there. I'm Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham. Besides, Jim is a personal friend of mine. I owe him this." Bruce says, pulling out his shiny, black shoes and slipping them on. I sit on the edge of the bed and cross my arms.

  
"I've never met Commissioner Gordon before. Can I come? I promise to be on my best behavior." I ask eagerly. Bruce turns to me with a raised brow, his lips turning up into a smile.

  
"Didn't you just call it stupid? Now you want to go?" He asks. I look down at my lap and uncross my arms. I rub the material of my pants between two fingers.

  
"It's just...I feel like I never get to leave the manor. And you leave all the time and it makes the place feel so empty. It feels like I'm locked up in here." I say quietly. I hear Bruce step towards me, getting down on his knees so we're at equal eye level. A large hand strokes my cheek, and I cover his hand with my own. Our eyes meet and I can feel my heartbeat quicken.

  
"You aren't a prisoner here. You know that, right?" Bruce asks. I look back down at my lap, taking my hand off his.

  
"It feels that way though." I mumble. I glance up at Bruce as he brushes a thumb across my lower lip. My lips automatically part to his touch.

  
Then Bruce's face is right there and his lips are light against mine. His hands cup my face as he kisses me harder. I close my eyes as Bruce's tongue enters my mouth, where he licks and gasps. I let out a mewl as I wrap my arms around his neck. I so much prefer to just kiss Bruce than have sex with him. It's easier this way. It feels nice sometimes and it never hurts.

  
As he pulls away, I whimper and pout. Bruce chuckles lightly as I open my eyes. The way he's looking at me makes my heart stop. Bruce looks at me with such admiration and love. It makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. It's simply more proof of Bruce's love for me.

  
"Okay, since you've been so good recently, you can come tonight." He says with a smile. I grin and practically bounce with happiness. I feel like I'm bursting with excitement. I haven't left the manor since the night we went out to dinner with Silver, and that was months ago.

  
"Really?" I ask, just in case I heard Bruce wrong. It seems too good to be true for Bruce to give me exactly what I want. Bruce smiles endearingly at me.

  
"Really." He assures me. I yelp for joy and jump into his arms, surprising Bruce. He chuckles and kisses my forehead. I grin into his shoulder, my legs wrapping around his torso and my arms around his neck. All the pain and loneliness is worth it for this. The sex and the blowjobs are worth it for feeling loved like this. These are the moments with Bruce where I feel most cared for. I live for these moments.

 

 

  
*******************

 

 

  
I follow Bruce out of the limo and am blinded by the bright flashes of the cameras. I immediately hide behind Bruce in an effort to avoid the paparazzi. It's pointless; they're insistent in getting a picture of Bruce Wayne's ward. Bruce puts an arm around my shoulder and pushes me in front of him.

  
"You asked for this." Bruce says through his teeth, quiet enough so only I can hear him. I almost want to correct him that all I really wanted was to get out of the manor for a couple of hours, not be thrown in front of the media. I forgot that when you're associated with Bruce Wayne, those two things basically mean the same thing.

  
I try to smile and not cover my eyes as the cameras flash away and blind me. Bruce pushes me along as the reporters and photographers shout for Bruce's attention, firing questions at him. I'm surprised even more when they start shouting my name.

  
"Richard, what's it like being the ward of a multibillionaire?"

  
"Richard, do you realize you're living the life most kids can only dream of?"

  
"Richard, how would you describe your relationship with Bruce Wayne? Is he like a father to you?"

  
Bruce taught me years ago to just ignore the reporters. He said they like to take your words and twist them into something disgusting. I let him lead me towards the building and into the decked out ballroom.

  
It reminds me of the ballroom we have in the manor. The walls are the color of gold, and from the ceiling hangs sparkling, crystallized chandeliers. Everyone is dressed to the nines in dazzling gowns and sharp tuxes. The diamonds that all the women seem to be wearing glimmer under the lights. The whole ballroom shimmers like one big, golden jewel.

  
I follow Bruce through the crowds of people, but we don't get very far without someone stopping to talk to Bruce. After we're able to escape that person, it's not long before someone else stops us. It goes on and on like this for a while. They all smile, shake hands, and Bruce always introduces me. I try to remember everyone's names, but after meeting so many people, all the names start get mixed up in my head.

  
A man with red hair, a mustache, and glasses approaches us. He looks almost awkward in his tux, like he's not used to wearing one. He fidgets and straightens out his tie even though it's already straight. I recognize the man immediately. I've seen his picture in the news before.

  
"And here's the man of the hour! The great Jim Gordon!" Bruce says in a booming voice with a grin, clapping a hand on Commissioner Gordon's shoulder. Gordon smiles bashfully, waving Bruce off like it's nothing. "You deserve it, Jim."

  
"Thanks for coming Bruce, and it's really no big deal. If it was up to me, we wouldn't be having any of this. You know how I feel about these things." The Commissioner says, gesturing to the room around them. I smile at him, having forgotten how likable Gordon always seems. Even in the news, he always comes off as a nice, down-to-earth guy.

  
"I know how you are, but I think it's good that the city's rewarding you. You've really cleaned up Gotham City since you first came here. You're the closest thing this city has to a superhero." Bruce says. I look up at Bruce, feeling suddenly very proud of him. I'm proud to say that I'm here with him. It makes me happy that the person I love most in the world can be such a kind person when he really tries.

  
"Well I wouldn't go as far as to say that. Let's not get carried away here." Commissioner Gordon says and then turns to look at me. His whole face brightens at the sight of me. "Is this your ward? Dick, right? It's such an honor to finally meet you. Bruce talks about you all the time."

  
"It's an honor to meet you too, and congratulations." I say. It always surprises me when people say Bruce talks about me a lot. I always expect him to have better things to think about than me.

  
"No congratulations necessary. I'm happy to see you here. Bruce hadn't mentioned you were coming." Gordon responds, his eyes flashing to Bruce. I look up at Bruce expectedly.

  
"Dick was insistent on coming. I figured you wouldn't mind." He explains. Commissioner Gordon's eyes slide back to me.

  
"Of course not. It's a good thing you're here, Dick. How old are you again?" Gordon asks.

  
"I'll be fourteen next month." I answer, saddening just at the thought of it. Birthdays are so much harder now that my parents are gone. My birthday just hasn't been the same since the Night That Changed Everything. Every birthday I grow a year older, and I think about how it's just another year of my life my parents will never get to see.

  
"My daughter is the same age. She's here and I was worried about her being the only person here who can't legally drink." Gordon jokes. I feel something in my stomach twist at Commissioner Gordon's words. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone my age at this event. I figured it would be only adults. People my own age are a lot harder to talk to.

  
"I remember Barbara. I haven't seen her since she was a little girl. How is she? How does she like Gotham Academy?" Bruce asks. I look up at him questioningly. He's never told me that Commissioner Gordon had a daughter my age, much less the fact that she attends Gotham Academy. I would think that would have been something he mentioned back when he forced me to go there.

  
"She's the top of her class. They actually placed her in some high school level courses. The girl's a genius. I couldn't be prouder of her, and it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you Bruce. I would have never been able to send Babs to Gotham Academy if it wasn't for the Wayne Scholarship." Gordon says. Bruce half smiles, going on to say how happy he is to see that the scholarship is being put to good use.

  
Every year Wayne Enterprises gives out one scholarship to an upcoming sixth grader for Gotham Academy. Bruce usually gives the scholarship to someone from a poorer background, but he probably made an exception for Gordon's daughter.

  
"Where is that girl anyway?" Commissioner Gordon asks, looking around. His eyes light up with recognition when he spots someone out of the crowd, waving them over. "Babs, over here! There's someone I want you to meet."

  
I watch in awe as a girl with long, flaming red hair and green emerald eyes walks towards us. I can feel my heart begin to pound rapidly against my chest, and my palms begin to sweat. She's wearing a green dress that matches her eyes and her skin is pale and smooth. She's beautiful, and perfect, and makes my stomach do somersaults.

  
"Yeah Dad?" She asks. Her voice sounds the way I'd imagine an angel to sound. I feel like I'm frozen in my spot. I can't move a muscle.

  
"Barbara, this is Bruce Wayne. You've met him before, but it was years ago." The Commissioner says, putting an arm around his daughter.

  
"Nice to see you again, Barbara. You're growing up to be a beautiful young woman." Bruce says with an engaging smile. Barbara thanks him and her eyes land on me. It feels like all the blood in my body rushes to my face as she gazes at me. "And this is his ward, Dick Grayson."

  
"It's nice to meet you Dick." Barbara says with a dazzling smile. I open my mouth to answer her, but to my horror, nothing comes out. I feel myself go redder, which I didn't think was possible. I know everyone's waiting for me to speak, but I think I might have gone permanently mute.

  
"Sometimes Dick has trouble speaking. He's not used to being around so many people at once. He gets nervous easily. It's probably my fault. I'm a bit overprotective of him." Bruce explains, coming to my rescue. I flash him a grateful look as Bruce's hand comes up to the back of my neck and strokes the skin there.

  
"Understandable, considering what you've both been through." Gordon says, exchanging a look with his daughter. "Babs, you and Dick are the same age."

  
"That's a relief. I was afraid I'd be the only kid here." Barbara says. Her gaze goes back to me and I return her smile. She seems nice enough. I can't remember the last time I talked to a genuinely nice girl my age. Probably not since I was at Haly's Circus.

  
"Why don't you two go check out the buffet table together?" Bruce says. I look up at him in surprise. I'm not supposed to pick out my own food. Bruce does that for me. That's the way it's always been. I can't pick out my own meal! I don't know how to do that anymore!

  
"Without you?" I ask, beginning to panic. Bruce smiles knowingly at me, his eyes sliding back to the Commissioner and Barbara. They watch me with an odd expression.

  
"He's very dependent on me." Bruce says, and they nod in understanding. Bruce pushes me towards Barbara.

  
"Come on, Dick." Barbara says and then starts walking in the direction of the buffet table. I follow her, looking back at Bruce nervously. He gives me a reassuring smile and then turns his attention back to Commissioner Gordon. I'm quiet as Barbara leads me through the crowd.

  
I don't know what I'm going to be able to say to her, especially without Bruce here. I have trouble talking to just about anyone, much less someone as beautiful as Barbara. It's only a matter of minutes before she realizes I have nothing to say, and then ditches me for someone less boring.

  
I stare at all the trays and dishes of food, feeling hopelessly lost. The buffet table seems to go on for miles. Barbara picks up a plate and begins to pile food onto it. I grab a plate and clutch it tightly to my chest. Barbara glances up at me and stops, watching me closely.

  
"Are you okay? What's wrong?" She asks. I chew on my lower lip as I try to figure out how to answer that question. Maybe I should just lie. It's better than the truth. The truth might make me sound pathetic, but Barbara's watching me with such soft eyes that it makes me think that maybe she'll understand.

  
"I don't know what to eat. I'm used to Bruce choosing my meals for me." I tell her. Barbara's eyes go from the buffet table to me.

  
"Oh, well I can help you. What do you usually eat?" She asks. A mix of relief and gratefulness wash over me as Barbara and I make our way down the buffet table. She does help me choose my meal, but she doesn't force any one food on me. Instead, Barbara gives me options, letting me choose for myself. I'm not used to that, but I like it.

  
Once our plates are filled, Barbara and I find an empty table to sit at. She sits next to me, and it's quiet for a few minutes as we eat. I swallow my food, scanning my brain for something to say to her.

  
"Do you like to be called Barbara or Babs? I heard your dad call you both." I ask, breaking the silence. Barbara takes a sip of her water before answering.

  
"Either one works. Sometimes people call me Barbara, or Babs, or Barb, or Barbie. You can call me whatever you want." She says, trying to fight a smile. Every time she smiles, I swear my heart skips a beat.

  
"I like Babs." I say, smiling. "You have a lot of nicknames."

  
Babs giggles and then smacks her hand over her mouth as if embarrassed. Watching her only makes me laugh because she looks so ridiculous trying to stop herself from laughing. As if there's something wrong with a girl giggling. Babs begins to laugh with me.

  
"I hate giggling like that." She says.

  
"Why?" I ask, my head cocked to the side in curiosity.

  
"It makes me sound like a silly, little girl." Babs says after we've calmed down. My smile grows at her words, thinking it does make her sound like a silly, little girl. But there's nothing wrong with that. "So I heard we attended the same school for a day. We were even in the same homeroom."

  
I feel myself blush with humiliation at the memory of my awful day at Gotham Academy. I think back to that homeroom, trying to remember Barbara. If she was there, I feel like I would have noticed her.

  
"I don't remember seeing you there." I say, my forehead crinkled in confusion. Babs shakes her head as we both continue our meals.

  
"I wasn't. I was with my guidance counselor that morning, but Hazel Galagher was all too eager to tell everyone about her new best friend, Dick Grayson." She says. I automatically groan at the mention of Hazel. I know she wasn't try to at the time, but she really did make that day ten times worse for me.

  
"You had to bring her up. I almost forgot she existed." I say, making Barbara burst out into laughter. I like how easy it is for me to make her laugh. Back when I was still in the circus, I was able to make people laugh all the time. I was fun, outgoing, and was never able to sit still. I used to never shut up. I used to love being around people and talking to them. Bruce stamped all of that out of me though. I didn't even think I was still capable of making people laugh like I used to.

  
I can feel a pair of eyes on me, and look around to see Bruce watching me. A woman with red hair holds his arm, her eyes watching him adoringly. She's just as pretty as any other woman I've ever seen on Bruce's arm, but Bruce pays her no attention. His eyes stay on me, his expression hard and his jaw clenching and unclenching. He looks angry, but at what, I don't know. I turn back to Barbara, trying to pretend Bruce isn't watching my every move. It's obvious she noticed me looking at Bruce, because her gaze goes back and forth between the two of us.

  
"I know, Hazel's...well, she's something alright. I figured she frightened you away." She says, bringing my attention back to the conversation.

  
"Something like that." I say, looking down at my lap. I play with the tablecloth for a moment before continuing. "It was just that everyone there wouldn't stop staring at me, and I knew they were making judgements and stuff. I don't know. I didn't like it. It was my first time, you know, going to a proper school. All my life I've been homeschooled."

  
"I get it. I feel the same way at that school. I think everyone feels that way though, especially in middle school." Barbara says in a quiet voice. I look up at her and feel myself ease at her tender expression. I never really thought of that. I always just assumed that I was alone in the way I felt. It's nice to know I'm not alone in that way.

  
The entire time we've been talking, Babs has been nothing but kind and understanding to me. It feels different from the way Bruce treats me. I'm not used to being treated so warm-heartedly.

  
Conversation only seems to get easier from there. I don't even have to think about what I'm saying; I just say it. I get less nervous, more easygoing, more silly as the night goes on. Barbara seems to like it too. She's easy to talk to and not once does she get angry with me. I get Bruce and Alfred angry a lot.

  
I like listening to her talk. I learn a lot about her, and I'm never bored with what she's telling me. I learn that she has a photographic memory that's so advanced that she literally remembers every little detail of everything. I learn that she's really good with computers, loves to read, and has been taking ballet since she was six. I tell her about myself too. I tell her about my time as an acrobat, about being homeschooled, and about how my favorite story as a kid was Robin Hood. It's fun to get to know someone like this again. The only person I really know anymore is Bruce, and there's still so much about him that's a mystery to me.

  
When Commissioner Gordon is honored with an award from the mayor, I can feel my whole body buzzing with happiness. A kind of happiness I haven't felt in a long time. It's the kind of happiness you feel when you know you've made a friend. I've made a friend who isn't Bruce. I grin at that thought.

  
I look around at the beautiful ballroom that's filled with all of Gotham's finest. I can still feel Bruce's angry gaze on my back, but that's okay. I don't know why he's as angry as he appears to be, but I won't let his foul mood dampen my spirits. Not tonight. Tonight I'm just really happy to be alive.

 

 

  
***********************

 

 

I feel a finger press against the back of my neck, startling me. Both Barbara and I turn to see Bruce towering over me, his gaze focused and intense. Just having him standing over me makes the happy feelings disappear, as if they were never there to begin with. I can feel the blood drain from my face and I'm filled with shame. I don't know why, but it feels like I did something wrong. It feels like I betrayed Bruce somehow and then he caught me in the act.

  
"It's time to go home Dick. It's past midnight." Bruce says. I'm surprised that it's that time already because it sure hasn't felt like we've been here for hours. I was having so much fun talking with Barbara, that I guess I hadn't noticed the time flying by.

  
"It was really great to meet you Babs." I say, turning to Barbara. I smile at her, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. I know I probably won't see her again. Having a friend, a real friend, is just too good to be true. Having something as simple as a friend just isn't something that happens to me anymore. "Sorry I have to go. This was a lot of fun."

  
"Totally. We should exchange numbers so we hang out again." She says with grin. My smile falters at her words. Not having a cellphone has never made me feel as miserable as it does now.

  
"Dick doesn't have a phone. Sorry." Bruce says before I can, not looking sorry at all. He looks down at us with a pleased look and then tugs on my arm. "Let's go, Dick. It's way past your bedtime."

  
There he goes again with that stupid, made up bedtime that I don't have.

  
"We'll find a way to hang out, don't worry." Babs assures me with a confident smile. I smile back at her, admiring how sure of herself she is. She doesn't know Bruce though. If he doesn't want Barbara to see me, and it does appear to be that way, then he'll find a way to make sure she doesn't.

  
"I hope so." I answer honestly. Bruce lets us say our final goodbyes to each other before dragging me out of the building. I feel my whole body sag with sorrow as Alfred opens the limousine door for us. I slide onto the black leather seat and let out a depressing sigh. I was having so much fun tonight that I didn't even think about how the night would have to end.

  
Bruce slides in close to me as the car begins to move. He wraps his arms around me, and a hand comes up to turn my face towards his. Bruce gazes at me with wild, hungry eyes. The look he's giving me fills me with a cold fear. I begin to tremble as his mouth covers mine in a painful kiss.

  
I tell myself I'm being selfish again. Bruce loves me, he cares for me, he would never intentionally hurt me. I'm lucky to have someone like him in my life. I'm lucky that he loves me the way he does. I love him, and while I may never see Barbara ever again, at least I'll still have Bruce. I'll always have Bruce.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was only a matter of time before I brought Babs into the story. She's the character who got me into comics in the first place, so she has a special place in my heart. I actually meant to introduce her way back in chapter three when Dick attended Gotham Academy, but she was axed from the scene when I decided to take that storyline in a different direction. Hope you enjoyed, and as always, your comments are greatly appreciated (because I'm one of those people who constantly needs to be validated to not feel like crap).


	16. Unhappy

“Are you going to eat Master Dick, or are you just going to stare at your plate all night?” Alfred says when he enters the dining room to check on me. I look down at my plate in surprise, having forgotten where I was for a moment. I was so busy wallowing in my loneliness that I totally forgot what I was doing. I pick up my fork and stab at a meatball. I shove a large piece into my mouth and stare at Bruce's empty seat.

  
Bruce is never home for dinner. I always end up eating by myself and noticing how ridiculously long this table is. It's the kind of dining room table someone would need if they host a lot of dinner parties. It's a table that's made to seat lots of guests. Considering the fact that Bruce never has people over if he can help it, owning this kind of table makes no sense whatsoever. Unless, of course, it's here to simply remind me of how alone I am.

  
After living with Bruce for four and a half years, I'm used to feeling lonely most of the time. Between living in such a big house and Bruce constantly being out, how can someone not get used to the solitary? But since we left that gala last night, I've been feeling even more alone and depressed than usual.

  
I don't know why this is. Maybe it's because I didn't realize until I met Barbara how nice it is to just be able to talk to someone again. To not have to worry about saying the wrong thing and making the person angry. It felt so nice to make a friend and be able to tell someone things that they didn't already know about me. It was so nice to talk to someone who didn't look angry all the time. It was really a great night.

  
But then the night ended and I went back to my regular, isolated life. I couldn't help but notice that things seem different now. I noticed now that something was missing from my everyday life. Having a friend to talk to was what was missing, and I hadn't realized it until I met Barbara.

  
It's like if someone quit using electricity. After years of not using electricity anymore, they wouldn't even notice its absence. They would find a way to manage without it, but if that person decided to start using electricity again, they would suddenly realize the significance of what they were missing. They might even realize that it wasn't logical to try to survive without it.

  
That's how I feel about being able to talk to a friend. It feels like something I went so long without, that it got to the point where I didn't even notice it was missing from my life. Barbara brought that back though, and now I want her friendship in my life.

  
I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the front door opening. I turn to the entrance of the room in anticipation. I'm surprised Bruce is home already. He usually doesn't get out of the office until after dinner.

  
Bruce walks into the room, his eyes not wavering from mine. The look he's giving me makes me fidget. It makes me think of last night after we left the gala and were in the limo. Bruce was so wild last night, so intense. His grip was tighter than usual and his mouth was rough against mine. He had his way with me right there on the limo seat as I cried and whimpered in pain. I don't want a repeat of last night. It's just too much for one person to take.

  
"Bruce? Are you okay? Do you want to join me for dinner?" I ask in a shaky and frightened voice. He stalks towards me as I drop my fork onto my plate. Bruce sits down in the chair next to me, nudging closer and placing a large hand on my knee. I glance down at his hand and then back up at the hungry look on his face.

  
I try to think of what I did to make Bruce act this way, but my mind draws up a blank. That's the thing with Bruce though. You never know what mood he's going to be in when he comes home.

  
"I had an early dinner." He says. I feel both disappointed and upset when I sniff and smell perfume on him. It's a familiar one, one I've definitely smelled on Bruce before. Either it's from one woman who favors a certain perfume, or it's just a really popular perfume with all women. Either way, it makes me sad to smell it on Bruce. I know Bruce has a good reason for always having a girlfriend, and I know that he and I aren't in a committed relationship or anything, but I still feel betrayed every time I find out he's been with someone in that way. I feel like I'm being cheated on, like Bruce isn't being loyal to me.

  
"Finish your food. After all," Bruce says, his hand on my knee sliding to the inside of my covered thigh, "you're a growing boy."

  
A shiver goes down my spine at his words and touch. I glance down at my lap as Bruce's hand crawls closer and closer to my crotch. I look up at his smug expression and have to remind myself to breath. I don't know how I could do this though. How can I eat and pretend that everything's normal when right now, it's clearly not? I wasn't prepared for this. I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can ever do this.

  
"Dick, eat." Bruce says in a threatening voice, after seconds of me just staring at him. I turn my attention back to my meal, slowly moving to pick up my fork again. It shakes in my hand and I have to force myself to stop trembling. I tell myself to focus on eating and not the hand on my thigh and Bruce's penetrating gaze. I twirl the spaghetti around my fork and take a small bite. I'm going to try to eat as slowly as possible, because I know exactly what Bruce plans to do with me after I'm finished. The longer I can put that off, the better.

  
I eat on autopilot, barely tasting the food as it hits my tongue and goes down my throat. No matter how hard I try, I can't ignore the hand stroking the inside of my thigh. My breathe catches as I feel his fingers twitch closer to my groin. I don't dare look him in the eye, preferring to look down at my plate. I can feel him watching me, his gaze heavy.

  
All too soon, my plate is empty except for scrapes of red sauce. I slowly bite down on my last piece of meatball, chewing slowly and knowing that there's no avoiding it anymore. I swallow and gasp in surprise when Bruce puts his hand over my crotch and squeezes. I grip the table tightly as he leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear. I shudder under his touch.

  
"Good boy." He whispers, his breathe hot against my skin. The hand on my lap rubs and tugs, and to my horror, I feel myself stiffen under his hand. Bruce chuckles and kisses me under the ear. "So needy."

  
He runs his free hand through my hair, tipping my head back to give himself more access to my neck. Bruce leaves wet, hungry kisses there, as I close my eyes and breath unsteadily. I could almost enjoy the feeling of his lips against my skin if it wasn't for the hand that was quickly unbuttoning my jeans.

  
"Get on the table." Bruce commands, removing himself from me. I turn to him with a frightened expression, hoping I misheard him. Are we really going to do this right now on the dining room table? Can't we at least go upstairs to Bruce's room where we can close the door and have some real privacy? I mean, Alfred can walk in at any moment.

  
Bruce's intense gaze turns into a glare, and before he can say anything more, I rush to get out of my chair and onto the table. It's best not to try and make him angry. I sit so that I'm facing him, looking at anything but Bruce. He stands slowly and takes his time coming towards me. He doesn't stop until he's right in front of my face, tugging me closer by my shirt and spreading my legs.

  
I try not to meet his eyes, but that becomes impossible when his forehead leans against mine. He presses his body against me and my breathe quickens when I feel something hard poking at my stomach. I look into his eyes and I'm scared by what I see. Those blue eyes I know so well are filled with desperation and greed. Two things that never lead to anything good.

  
A hand cups my cheek, stroking the skin there in almost a lovingly sort of way. Our mouths are so close that our breathes mix together. All I could smell is a scent that I could only describe as Bruce, mixed with that awful perfume. I feel a pain in my chest when I think about what the perfume implies.

  
When our lips meet, I feel like I've lost the ability to breath. His kiss overwhelms me with how demanding and possessive it is. Bruce holds my chin too tightly, making me whimper in pain. Our tongues touch and Bruce groans into my mouth.

  
I feel him tugging on my jeans, expertly slipping them off and throwing them onto the floor. I shiver under his gaze, feeling more exposed than I typically would. Hands up my legs, wet kisses leaving a trail up my thighs. I tip my head back and close my eyes, ashamed at how my body reacts to Bruce's touch.

  
I cry out in surprise when a hand fists my hair and pulls. I open my eyes and meet Bruce's gaze. His other hand grips my chin and pulls my face closer.

  
"Who do you belong to?" Bruce asks harshly, moving down to bite and suck my neck. I let out a breathy moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. A finger slips into my briefs and begins to slide them down. I bite on my lower lip and have to stop myself from protesting. There's no point saying no to him anyway. It's not like Bruce has ever listened to me before, so why would he start now? "Answer me."

  
The briefs join my jeans on the floor and I quiver, feeling the cool air against my bare skin. I gasp in surprise when I feel a rough hand around my hard cock.

  
"You. I belong to you." I manage to gasp. Bruce smirks, his hand beginning to pump at a steady pace.

  
"That's right. You belong to me. You're mine, Dick, and don't you ever forget it." Bruce whispers against my ear. He's right, of course. Bruce owns me, I owe my life to him. All those years ago, he saved me. Bruce is the only reason I exist now.

  
I can feel his dick press between my ass cheeks, automatically making my body go into panic mode. No, no, no, no. I hate when Bruce fucks me without any prep. It's one of the worst pains I've ever felt in my life.

  
I try to pull away, but Bruce wraps one arm around my waist and the other tightly grips my hair. Our eyes meet and Bruce looks so vicious, so savage that I almost don't recognize him. I've seen Bruce angry plenty of times before, but this is something different. This is anger on a whole new level, and I don't understand what I did wrong to make him so mad in the first place.

  
Without any warning, Bruce thrusts into me and it feels like my body is being ripped in two. I cry and scream, the tears running down my cheeks. Bruce ignores my cries, covering my mouth with his in a harsh kiss. His lips trail away from my mouth to kiss away all my tears. I've managed to stop screaming now, just quietly whimpering and crying as Bruce continues to thrust in and out of me. After being taken dry as many times as I have, the pain might not subside, but you do become more tolerant of it.

  
"I saw you last night." Bruce says as he licks up my tears. "I saw the way you looked at that girl. I saw how red your face got, and I saw the way you laughed with her. You looked so damn happy. You were so fucking happy last night. It's been so long since I've seen you that happy. Tell me Dick, are you happy now?"

  
I can barely understand what Bruce is saying because I'm too distracted by the pain of his cock rubbing against my dry walls, making the skin there burn. When I don't answer, both his hands grab at my hair, tugging my head back and leaning over me.

  
I close my eyes and wish for this all to be over soon. I wish that Bruce would just come already and get out of me. I wish that he was gentle with me and prepped me instead of just pushing into me dry. I wish for things that I refuse to admit to myself, because I know I'm wrong to think that way.

  
"Answer me!" Bruce growls as he shakes my head angrily, making my teeth rattle. I bite on my bottom lip, able to focus on nothing but the excruciating sensation of Bruce's dick in my ass. "I said, answer me!"

  
Bruce throws my head all the way back, my vision cloudy with tears, as the back of my head hits the table with a loud, "SLAM!"

  
Then everything goes black.

 

 

  
***********************

 

 

When I wake up, I'm instantly blinded by all the lights. The sun's not even out anymore, but it still seems so bright in here. I don't even know how I got here. I try to remember how I ended up in this bed, but all I can recall is Bruce forcing himself inside of me on the dining room table. I'm not sure why, but I can't see anything clearly. My vision is a complete blur, everything just a fog of colors.

  
Bruce appears leaning over me, his face just a blob of pale skin. He reaches out and touches my cheek with a gentle hand. I lean into his touch, feeling how warm and soft he is. He's so familiar, so comforting, Bruce is all I have. Tears come to my eyes at these thoughts.

  
"How are you feeling?" Bruce asks. I push myself to sit up, which exhausts me tremendously and takes me longer than it should. I feel like my entire body has slowed down. Then the whole room is spinning and I have to close my eyes to make it stop. I don't think I feel so good. "Dick? Do you remember what happened?"

  
I know Bruce is speaking, but I can't focus enough to answer him. I feel the bed shift as Bruce sits next to me, a hand rubbing my back. I slowly turn to him, looking up at his hazy face. He sits there painterly, waiting for me to answer when I'm ready. It's been a long time since he did that.

  
"Dick, I love you. You know that, right?" He says. I feel the room begin to spin again, and I feel something come up my throat. Before I can even think about it, I lean over Bruce's lap and open my mouth. Chewed up spaghetti, tomato sauce, and chunks of meat splatter all over Bruce's expensive pants. Bruce watches the whole thing with a shocked expression.

  
Then I promptly pass out again.

 


	17. Patient

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that I can see things clearly again. My head still hurts and I still feel drained of energy, but that's not the real problem. The problem is that I don't know where I am. I feel the flat, white blanketed bed beneath me. I look around the stark white room filled with cabinets and a counter. It looks like a doctor's office, but how exactly I got here is a mystery to me.

  
My eyes land on a large figure sitting on a chair in the far corner. As soon as he realizes I'm awake, he's up and standing over me. His eyes are full of worry and relief. He touches my cheek lightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

  
"You're awake." Bruce breaths. I smile weakly in return, my eyes searching the room again. "How do you feel?"

  
I try to sit up, but Bruce tells me to lay back and relax. I try to make myself comfortable in the stiff bed.

  
"I'm feeling better. Everything isn't blurry anymore and the lights aren't bothering me now. I don't feel like I'm going to be sick, but my head still hurts. I feel really tired." I say, rubbing at my forehead. That's when I notice that I'm in different clothes from earlier. I'm wearing one of Bruce's long sleeved, cotton shirts and flannel pajama pants. Bruce must have changed me while I was passed out. I feel uncomfortable at the idea of him seeing me naked without me being conscious. I know I should feel comfortable with Bruce seeing me naked no matter what the circumstances, but I don't.

  
"That's good. Alfred said some of the symptoms can go away within just a couple of hours. The headache and the general tiredness are to be expected." Bruce says. He looks so happy that I'm awake that he's full out grinning now. His eyes are lit up and watching me adoringly. But Bruce said something about symptoms and hours, which has me asking more questions.

  
"What's wrong with me? How long have I been out for, and where are we?" I ask, looking around curiously. We could be in a hospital, but a hospital wouldn't be this quiet. And if this was a hospital, then there should be a doctor somewhere.

  
"You have a concussion. Alfred performed an MRI. Fortunately, there's no real damage done to your brain. He's going to want to perform some short exams now that you're conscious. Speaking of which, I should let him know you're awake." Bruce says, moving over to an intercom that I didn't see before. He pushes down on a button and calls for Alfred before returning to my bedside. He strokes my face, and I smile at his touch. "You've been out for only a couple of hours. I kept thinking something much more serious happened to you, but Alfred assured me that you were going to be just fine. I can't help but think of all the ways this could have been avoided. If you had just cooperated with me earlier, none of this would have happened."

  
I look down in shame, knowing Bruce is right. This is all my fault, as it always is. I wouldn't be suffering from a concussion right now if I had just listened to Bruce and answered his questions. If I had controlled the way I behaved with Barbara the other night, Bruce wouldn't have gotten so upset and he wouldn't had forced me to have sex in such a rough manner. Everything that has happened to me up to this point is my own fault.

  
"You're right, and I'm sorry. Please forgive me." I beg, looking back up at Bruce, my eyes glassy with tears. Bruce brushes a strand of hair off my face, his expression caring and compassionate.

  
"Of course I forgive you, Dick. How can I not? You're the love of my life." He answers softly. I smile shyly, wiping away the few tears that had managed to fall down my cheeks. Bruce has never called me that before. I don't know how to handle it. It's nice that someone feels that way about me, but something about what he said doesn't sit right with me. I don't think I want to be the love of Bruce's life, which is a terrible way to think. I should be happy Bruce loves me so much. Once again, I'm only thinking about myself.

  
"I love you too, so much." I manage to choke out. It's not a lie, I do love Bruce more than anyone else on this earth. He's all I have, but sometimes he scares me. I wish he was better at showing me his love. Sometimes he hurts me or makes me do things I don't want to do. Is that a way to show someone you love them? I'm not sure. I've never been loved the way Bruce loves me. I don't really know how this kind of love works.

  
Maybe it's because he loves me that he treats me the way he does. Bruce was the one who said the bruises on my body are a sign of love. He was the one who said that those who don't approve of our love just don't understand it. I think he might be right. I need to stop questioning Bruce's love for me. He loves me and everything he does, he does it because of how much he loves me. That's all there is to it. I've wasted far too much time pondering Bruce's love for me.

  
"What you did to me, you know, earlier? When you got home from work? You did that because you love me, right?" I ask in a quiet voice, glancing at him quickly before looking down again. Bruce holds my face in his hands, lifting my chin so he can look me in the eyes. His expression is one of kindness and love.

  
"Yes. I'm so in love with you, Dick, that you're all I think about it. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, you never leave my mind. You make it hard to focus on anything else. You're my favorite obsession." Bruce answers, and I give him a small smile. How can I possibly question Bruce's love when he says things like that? I need to trust him more. Bruce does know what's best for me.

  
I wrap my arms around him, bringing him close for a hug. He holds onto me just as tightly, his heavy weight above me feeling comfortable and right. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, smiling to myself. I am so lucky to have someone who loves me as much as Bruce does, and even if his love sometimes makes me uncomfortable, I should still be thankful. I need to remember that everything Bruce does is a sign of his love for me.

  
Alfred comes in at that very moment, chattering away, but quieting immediately when he sees us embracing. He waits patiently for us to pull away, Bruce clearing his throat as he step sway from the bed. Alfred approaches me hesitantly.

  
"How are you feeling, Master Dick? You were out for a while." Alfred asks. I open my mouth to answer, but Bruce beats me to it.

  
"He still has a headache and he's still exhausted. The hazy vision, nausea, and the light sensitivity is gone." Alfred nods, picking up a clipboard that was on the counter and writing something down. I notice how Bruce ignored my question about where we are earlier. If we were at the hospital, a doctor would be the one writing notes, not Alfred.

  
"You never told me where we are, and how was Alfred able to give me an MRI? He's not a doctor." I point out. Bruce and Alfred exchange a look, watching me apprehensively. There's a strained moment of silence before Bruce answers.

  
"Alfred went to school to become a doctor. He's trained for these types of things. We have all the technology for a MRI here." Bruce explains. I glance at Alfred, surprised to hear this. I always thought Alfred just grew up and became a butler. I never imagined that he might have wanted to do something else with his life. It makes me see him in a whole new light. "And we're below the manor."

  
"Wait, we have a basement?" I say, my cocked to the side in confusion. Bruce chuckles at my response. He covers my hand with his own.

  
"Not a basement exactly. It's actually a large, dark cave." Bruce says. I open my mouth to speak, trying to find the appropriate response to this. We have a cave under the manor, and it's a medical bay? That makes no sense. It hurts my head just thinking about it. I close my eyes for a moment before opening them again.

  
"I-I don't understand. You mean to tell me there's been a cave underneath me this entire time, and I didn't know about it? Why haven't you told me about this earlier?" I say, getting more upset with every second. It feels like every time I turn around, I find out that Bruce is lying to me again.

  
I pull my hand out from under his, suddenly feeling very betrayed. For someone who says how much he loves me, Bruce sure does keep a lot of secrets. And why would he keep a secret like this anyway? What does he have to gain from it? Bruce reaches for me, but I pull away from him with an icy look. He puts his arms down in defeat.

  
"You need to calm down, Dick. You're already not feeling well, and you overreacting isn't going to help anything. Getting upset like this is only going to make things worse." Bruce says in a calm voice. I settle back into the bed, hating that he's right. Bruce is always right and I'm always wrong. I tell myself to relax. Getting angry at Bruce isn't going to help anything, but even so, it doesn't make me any less mad at him.

  
"I'm so sick of you keeping all these secrets from me. You say you love me, but you don't even trust me. I mean, what else are you lying to me about? Any other major details about your life I should know about?" I ask, trying to keep control of my temper. Bruce's expression is emotionless, giving nothing away. I shouldn't be surprised, he does have a great poker face. I look over at Alfred, who immediately avoids my gaze by looking down at his clipboard instead.

  
"There are no other secrets, I swear." Bruce promises, bringing my attention back to him. I look into his eyes, trying to figure out if he's telling the truth or not. I mean, he's lied about so much already. Odds are pretty good he's not telling me the truth again. I can't focus on all of that right now though. I don't feel well as it is. Bruce is right; for now I should just focus on resting.

  
"It doesn't matter." I mumble under my breathe. There's a long, pregnant silence before Alfred clears his throat.

  
"Right, well now that we're all on the same page, I'd like to run some tests on you Dick. Just to make sure everything's alright. You were lucky your injury was so minor. Especially with how hard you hit your head." Alfred says, giving Bruce a withering look. Bruce waves him off as if he hadn't noticed the look Alfred just gave him.

  
"But now Dick knows to listen better so something like this doesn't happen again, right Dick?" Bruce asks, eyeing me the way a father would his guilty son. I nod earnestly, eager to show Bruce that I can be the good boy he knows me to be.

  
"Right Bruce." I say confidently. I won't let something like this happen again. As long as I always do exactly what Bruce tells me to do, we won't find ourselves in this type of situation ever again.

  
"Right, well let's get on with it." Alfred says with a loud sigh. He opens one of the cabinet drawers to pull out a flashlight. He comes around to the other side of the bed and turns on the flashlight, aiming it straight at my eyes. I immediately go to shield my eyes with my hand.

  
"I know the bright light is irritating, but I need to check your pupils. Just stare straight at me please." Alfred says patiently. I do as he says, trying not squint at the brightness. Bruce watches me closely as Alfred takes a moment to look at my pupils. He turns off the flashlight and proclaims that my eyes appear to be fine. Bruce gives me an encouraging smile.

  
"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions now. I'll start with some very simple ones, and the questions will get harder from there." Alfred explains. I glance at Bruce nervously, wondering what Alfred plans to ask me. Alfred notices my anxious expression and is quick to reassure me.

  
"Don't worry, it's nothing you won't know. You should find most of the questions spectacularly easy." He says. I nod and try to smile, grateful for how kind Alfred is being right now. I almost don't recognize the butler. His whole demeanor and attitude has changed. It's like he's gone full out Dr. Alfred Pennyworth on me.

  
"Okay." I say and press my lips together. I can feel two pairs of eyes watching me intensely.

  
"What's your name?" Alfred asks.

  
"Dick Grayson." I answer easily, surprised by the simple question. I know Alfred said the questions were easy, but I didn't expect them to be that easy. Alfred writes something down on the clipboard.

  
"When were you born?"

  
"March 21, 2003."

  
"What were the names of your parents?"

  
"John and Mary Grayson."

  
On and on Alfred goes with what feels like a hundred questions, constantly writing things down. He was right when he said the questions would be easy. There isn't one I don't know the answer to. I begin to get tired of all of the questions. The closer we get to the end, the more annoying it becomes.

  
"Last question for you Dick. Who is the president?" Alfred asks. I can't help but sigh loudly when he says that. Bruce notices this and gives me a half smile.

  
"Lex Luthor." I answer. Alfred nods with satisfaction and puts the clipboard down. He explains that now he wants to try a different test. I automatically let out a loud groan at this, my head falling back against the pillow. I'm too tired to do anymore tests. My entire body feels depleted of energy, and what I really need right now is sleep. Not to mention my head is killing me.

  
I wonder what time it is? When I blacked out the first time it was at dinner, and the second time must have been much later than that. That means that it must be early morning by now.

  
"Maybe we can take a break, Alfred? Dick should get some sleep now." Bruce says, giving me a sympathetic look. I manage to give him a small smile and then look over at Alfred. If anyone has the chance of changing Alfred's mind, it's Bruce, but not today.

  
"I agree with you Sir, but it's imperative that I finish this exam. Don't worry; it won't take long." Alfred says. Alfred then proceeds to explain that he will show me a small object, hide it on his person, and then I would have to tell him where it's hidden.

  
Alfred pulls out a pencil and puts it in his right pants pocket. I point to the pocket and Alfred takes more notes. We continue to do this several more times. It's always an effortless task for me to point out the hidden pencil.

  
I hear Bruce sigh impatiently and glance over at him. He runs a hand down his tired face, and that's when I notice the dark bags underneath his eyes. Bruce looks just as exhausted as I feel. He must have stayed up all night, waiting for me to wake up, refusing to go to sleep until he knew I was okay. It makes me feel warm inside to know that he would do that for me. Our eyes meet and Bruce gives me a gentle smile.

  
"Everything looks to be in order." Alfred says, recapturing my attention. I turn to Alfred, having forgotten he was there for a moment. "The recovery rate for a concussion varies from person to person. Sometimes it only takes a matter of hours for someone to fully recover, and sometimes it can takes weeks. What's important is that you rest. That means spending all of your time in bed. It also means no schoolwork, and more importantly, no physical activity."

  
I nod to show Alfred that I understand, but Alfred isn't looking at me. He's shooting Bruce a meaningful look.

  
"Did you get all that, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks with a raised eyebrow.

  
"Yes." Bruce says, giving Alfred a curious look.

  
"You understand that he can't participate in any physical activity? For possibly weeks? Or at least until his headache is gone and he is at his full strength again." Alfred says brashly, watching Bruce through narrow eyes. Bruce crosses his arms, his expression changing to one of surprise. He looks Alfred up and down as if he's sizing him up.

  
"If you have something to say Alfred, please just say it. Don't waste my time beating around the bush." Bruce says, his tone becoming bitter. I sink deeper into the bed, hoping to go unnoticed. I've never seen Bruce and Alfred act this way towards each other. Alfred has always simply followed Bruce's orders and never questioned him. I didn't even know Alfred was capable of questioning Bruce, but then again, Alfred is the one who raised him. Once upon a time, Alfred made the rules. Not the other way around.

  
"I'm not trying to beat around the bush, Sir. I'm simply saying that Dick cannot participate in any physical activity for the next few weeks. No matter what that activity might be. We have to be more careful with Master Dick. If something like this were to occur several times in the future, Master Dick could suffer from some serious brain damage." Alfred says.

  
I chew on my lower lip, hoping that I never get another concussion ever again. If my brain were to be severely damaged like Alfred says it could be, than Bruce might stop loving me. I might be too much of a burden for him and then he might get rid of me. I know Bruce loves me, but I can't take that chance. I have to do everything in my power to make sure Bruce continues to love me.

  
"You're right Alfred, as always." Bruce agrees. Bruce turns to me and runs a hand through my hair, his fingers pressing against my scalp. I close my eyes at his touch, wishing that he would keep his hand there instead of pulling away. He turns back to Alfred, his face completely serious. "Is there anything else we should know?"

  
"Sometimes, when people are suffering from a concussion, they can be very emotional. They might cry more or get easily anxious. They might need to be comforted more. What I'm saying is that Master Dick will most likely need more attention from you. Specifically the loving, tender, and caring kind of attention." Alfred goes on. Bruce smiles at this, absentmindedly reaching a hand out to me. I'm quick to grab it, to enjoy how his large hand seems to swallow my much smaller one.

  
"I think I can manage that." Bruce says. I can practically hear the smile in his voice. He most definitely likes the idea of showering me with attention. It's something he does everyday, except this time it can't be the kind of attention that includes physical activity. I grin at that thought; Bruce can't have sex with me for weeks. That's one good thing that came out of all of this.

  
"Good, and Dick," Alfred says, turning to me, "If your head is in too much pain, I can give you some sort of acetaminophen. Not an ibuprofen though, as that can cause internal bleeding."

  
I give Alfred a clueless look. I've heard of ibuprofen before, but never acetaminophen. Alfred sees my questioning expression and smiles.

  
"Tylenol. You can take Tylenol, but not medicine like aspirin or Advil." Alfred explains. I give him a half smile as Bruce turns to me with a satisfied look.

  
"Well if that's everything, I think I'll be taking Dick to bed now." He says. I sigh in relief, happy that I can finally rest my eyes. I thought this night would never end. I've had a long day and all I want to do right now is fall asleep and never wake up. I reach my arms out to Bruce as Alfred confirms that we're done for tonight.

  
Bruce picks me up bridal style, my head resting against his shoulder. I can feel his muscles rippling against my body as he carries me away. I listen to the steady rhythm of Bruce's breathing and smile, knowing that for now, I'm safe. I sigh with content, nuzzling closer. I close my eyes, and that's the last thing I remember before falling asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, I hope we all learned a little something about concussions. :)


	18. The Origin Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I wrote this chapter fast, but I was really excited about it. Bruce is so creepy in this chapter.

I was fifteen the first time I went to Haly's Circus and saw him. I remember I had gone with Selina. Her wavy black hair ran down her back like a waterfall. I specifically remember her wearing a purple ribbon in her hair that day.

  
I had spent most of the day being miserable and trying not to show it. It's how I spent most of my days. I wasn't as depressed as I had been before I met Selina. She was the closest anyone had ever gotten to getting me to smile since my parents were murdered.

  
Selina actually understood how I felt. Unlike so many other girls I had met at the time, she didn't pretend to know what it was like to have your parents killed in front of you. She didn't agree with everything I said and act all sugary sweet with me. Selina was always herself with me. She was an orphan like me, and she was never afraid to point out when I was in the wrong. I was in the wrong a lot, and people knew it, but they never confronted me about it. Not even Alfred. It felt like most of the time, people were walking on eggshells around me. It feels that way even today, but that was never the case with Selina. Selina was never afraid to say what she thought of me.

  
We had gotten there early so that we could check out what the circus had to offer before the show. We were standing by the tiger's cage, Selina going on about how beautiful of an animal the tiger was. Selina had always had a thing for cats, and they always had a thing for her back. Even the dangerous tiger seemed to had taken a liking to her. I stood behind her as she fawned over the large cat, my hands shoved in my pockets.

  
"Dick! Get back here! You're going to hurt yourself!" I heard someone in the crowd shout.

  
I didn't pay any attention to the concerned mother. I was more absorbed in my favorite daydream. The one where instead of that mugger shooting my parents, my father would grab the gun from him, and shoot the man himself. Then we would go home, laughing and smiling the whole way like nothing had happened. It was my perfect world. A world where Uncle Philip never came to live with me, and then proceed to drag me deeper into the darkness than I already was.

  
There was a thump as I felt something hit my legs. I looked down in surprise to see the top of a little boy's head, his dark hair a ruffled mess. He had his tiny arms wrapped around my legs and his face was pressed against my thigh.

  
"Hugs." He said in a bright, high voice. It was the cutest, most beautiful voice that I had ever heard in my whole life. I could feel my heart swell and when the child looked up at me, I stopped breathing. He looked up at me with sparkling, blue eyes that were filled with wonder, happiness, and compassion. I couldn't stop the grin that appeared on my face, and it was in that moment that I knew. I knew that this boy, whoever he may be, was meant to be with me. He's mine, he was always supposed to be mine.

  
"Dick, get off that boy! You can't just go around hugging strangers." That same woman from before said. I ripped my gaze away from this perfect angel wrapped around my legs to the woman rushing towards me, her expression frazzled and her black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

  
"Boy needs hugs." The child said, shoving his face back against my designer jeans. The mother sighed in exasperation and gave me an apologetic look.

  
"I am so sorry about this. Dick's only three years old, he doesn't understand that he shouldn't be hugging total strangers." The mother explained. I shook my head at her with a smile, reaching down and petting the boy's head fondly. He practically purred at my touch. It made my whole body pulse, and I could feel myself already starting to get hard. I quickly pictured Uncle Philip, which is always an instant turnoff for me.

  
"It's really not a problem. He's very cute." I said. Selina came over to stand next to me, looking down at the boy curiously and then turned to his mother.

  
"You should be proud. People have been trying to make Bruce smile since he was eight. Your son might be the first to actually do so." Selina said, flashing me a half smile. I rolled my eyes at her as the mother beamed down at her son.

  
"Dick has a tendency of making people smile." She said and puts her hand out for me to shake. "I'm Mary, by the way, Mary Grayson."

  
"Bruce Wayne, and this is my girlfriend, Selina Kyle. It's a pleasure to meet you." I said, shaking her hand. Mary then shook hands with Selina and turned her attention back to her son. She kneeled down and proceeded to pry Dick off of me.

  
"Come on, Dickie. Mommy and Daddy have to go and get ready for the show." She said in a gentle voice. Dick whined as Mary pulled him away from me, my entire body instantly feeling colder without Dick's arms around me. I looked up at his mother, desperate for Dick not to leave. It's a strange feeling; wanting someone to stay with me like this. I never feel this way about people. Whether I'm alone or surrounded by others, I still feel alone. But not then, not with Dick there. I didn't feel so alone with him.

  
I didn't know what it was about him. I had just met Dick, but I felt an instant connection to him. I felt like I had just found someone that I hadn't even realized I was missing, and now that I had found him, I couldn't let him go. Dick had to be mine, he needed to be with me. I was absolutely sure that we were meant to be together, and I was willing to do anything to make that so.

  
"You don't happen to be The Flying Graysons, are you?" I asked, and Mary smiled and nodded.

  
"The one and only. It's a family act; a long running tradition." She said, holding Dick in her arms and standing up.

  
"We've heard a lot of really good things about your act. You're supposed to be the highlight of the show." Selina said. I tried to focus on the conversation, but my attention was on Dick. His head rested on his mother's shoulder, his big eyes staring into mine.

  
"We're okay." Mary said with a shrug, looking bashful. Dick reached his short arms out to me, his little hands opening and closing. He looked desperate as he whined and began to cry for me.

  
"Boy, boy." He whimpered, pulling away from Mary. I had to stop myself from putting my arms around him and holding him against my chest. Mary gave Dick a curious look, struggling to keep him in her arms.

  
"It's so strange. Dick's never taken to anyone this quickly before." She said, more to herself than to me and Selina. I knew why he wanted me so badly. It's because Dick knew the same thing that I did. He might not have realized exactly what it was, but somewhere in that brain of his, he also knew that we were meant to be together.

  
"We really do have to go. It was nice meeting you two." Mary said, stepping away from us. We said our goodbyes, and I had to deliberately force myself not to take Dick from his mother.

  
Selina and I watched the two of them leave, Selina commenting on what a cute boy that Dick is. I was quiet as we made our way around the circus, and remain so when we entered the main tent to find our seats for the show. I tried to put Dick out of my mind and focus on the show, but it was hopeless. He was all I could think about that night, and he was all I could think about it in the years to come. And I knew, I knew with every fiber in my body, that Dick had be in my life. It didn't matter what I had to do to make it so, but Dick had to be with me. That boy was going to be mine.

 

 

  
*******************

 

 

  
I'm twenty-one when the circus comes back to Gotham City. I go on its opening night, choosing to go alone this time. It didn't seem appropriate to take a date with me, not for what I have planned for the night. It had only been a month after my wedding, and I was just starting to get my life together. I had a wife that was living in the rich side of Gotham, and now all I needed was Dick. Everything was finally coming together for me.

  
I make sure to get to the circus extra early, sneaking into the circus tent before anyone could see me. I make quick work of the ropes, making sure that they would snap as soon as the Graysons began swinging and flying through the air. They wouldn't be doing much flying tonight.

  
I make sure the coast is clear before sneaking back out of the tent, casually making my way through the circus. I feign interest in all the colorful attractions around me, but I'm really only looking for one thing. I'm looking for Dick, and while six years may have passed since the last time I saw him, I'm confident that I could pick him out of the crowd.

  
After what seems like hours of roaming the circus in hopes of spotting the boy, I finally find him by the elephants. He bounces around the large animal excitedly as one of the animal trainers calmly feeds the elephant. Dick may have grown up since the last time I saw him, but his blazing smile and gleaming eyes are exactly the same. His hair has grown a little, messy strands getting in his eyes. His limbs have gotten longer, his body leaner. He's wearing a bright, sparkling leotard of red, green, and yellow.

  
Dick dances, and twirls, and chatters away. As I creep closer, I realize it isn't the man feeding the elephant he's talking to, but the elephant itself.

  
"And then Mom swings back, I jump, she catches me, and I go sweeping through the air like a magic carpet!" Dick exclaims, gesturing wildly with his hands. I smile at his enthusiasm, thinking that he's just gotten more beautiful with age. He's perfect and wonderful and good. Dick's everything I am not, and it's one of the many reasons I need him.

  
I need him in my life now. I can't wait until he's mine. I can't wait until I can take him to his new home, tuck him into his new bed, and wish him goodnight. I can't wait for when I wake up and he's still there, sitting and eating breakfast with me. I can't wait until I can touch him, kiss him, and hold him. I can't wait to show him how much I love him, how much I've always loved him.

  
Dick's eyes land on me, and it feels like my heart just stopped. He stops talking, his eyes full of curiosity as he watches me. His head cocks to the side, his eyebrows pull together in concentration. It's almost as if Dick recognizes me, but I know that's not the case. There's no way Dick remembers me. He was much too young to remember me.

  
"Would you like to meet Lizzie?" Dick shouts, his eyes not straying from mine. For a moment, I think he's talking to someone else, because there's no way he could be talking to me. I look around to see if there's someone else Dick could be talking to, but there's just me. I'm the only person here who seems to even notice this magnificent boy.

  
"Sure. Yes, I'd like to meet Lizzie." I say, hoping that I don't sound nervous. I'm Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne doesn't get nervous. Bruce Wayne is calm, Bruce Wayne knows what he is doing, Bruce Wayne is in control of his emotions. I am Bruce fucking Wayne, and nothing scares me. At least, not anymore.

  
I walk over to Dick, trying to ignore how my whole body starts to tingle with desire. When I'm only a couple of feet away from him, Dick presents his hand to me. I hesitate for a moment before taking his small hand into mine. His skin is warm and soft, and I catch my breathe. Just holding his hand gives me goosebumps, and I wonder what it would be like if I could touch more of his skin. I so desperately want to touch every part of him, I want to consume him, I want Dick to know nothing but me. I tell myself to be patient, I tell myself the time for all of that will come soon, but that time isn't now. Soon enough, I will be able to do all those things to Dick that I've been dreaming of doing since I was fifteen.

  
"This is Lizzie, and she's ten years old." Dick says, gesturing to the elephant with his free hand. "Elephants live a long time, you know. Depending on the species, they can live to at least their forties."

  
"That's very interesting. You're very smart." I say, getting down on my knees so that I'm eye level with the boy. Dick smiles at this, his whole face turning as red as the candy apples they sell here. He's gorgeous when he blushes. "My name's Bruce. What's your name?"

  
"My name's Dick." He says brightly. As if I could ever forget his name. He's only the person I've been thinking of every night in my bed for the past six years.

  
I lean in closer, a smile pulling on my lips, "It's an honor to meet you, Dick. Tell me, do you like ice cream?"

 

 

  
**********************

 

 

When we get to the front of the line at the ice cream stand, Dick complains that he can't see the flavors. He puts his arms out to me, and I know right away what he wants. I don't let myself think about it before I pick him up, resting my hands against his upper thighs. He wraps his arms around my neck like it's something he's done a million times, as if he's known me forever and hasn't just met me. Dick seems so comfortable in my arms that someone walking by might think he's my son. Thank God Dick isn't my son. That's the last thing I want him to be. It is not okay for a father to have these kind of thoughts about his son.

  
I know Dick might be a little young for me, but it's not the worst thing in the world. Besides, the younger I start him, the more he'll end up loving me. And it's not like I have to start making love to him right away. I can wait until he's a little older. I'm not some sort of disgusting pedophile. I am not my uncle, and I'm not going to touch an innocent, nine year old. I can wait for Dick. I can wait for however long I deem necessary.

  
"Can I have chocolate?" Dick asks, his eyes landing on mine. He's so close that I can feel the heat from his body, and smell the conditioner his mother used in his hair this morning. Dick smells delicious. I can get lost in his scent for hours.

  
"Of course. Cone of bowl?" I ask, grinning at him. It's so cute how he asks me what flavor he can have. I can tell he's going to be an obedient one, and that's just the way I want him to be.

  
"Cone please."

  
"Do you want rainbow sprinkles?" I ask, and Dick's whole face lights up. Little kids love rainbow sprinkles. I know I did when I was younger.

  
"Ooh, yes please! Rainbow sprinkles!" Dick practically sings. I chuckle at his enthusiasm and give the cashier our order. I know I should put Dick down now, I know that there's no reason for me to continue to hold him like this, but I can't bare to let him go. I like holding him, it's as if Dick already belongs to me, and it's not like Dick is eager to get back on his own two feet anyway.

  
I pull my gaze away from Dick to glance around the crowds. His parents should be around here somewhere. They wouldn't just let their son wonder around by himself, would they?

  
I pay the woman as she hands us two ice cream cones; one classic vanilla and one chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. I hand Dick his cone, who looks like he's on the verge of bursting with excitement. He's grinning and his eyes are lit up with joy, and it fills me with happiness to know that I made him feel that way.

  
I carry him to a nearby bench, reluctantly putting Dick down and sitting next to him. I can't help but sit close to him, our thighs pressed against each other. Dick doesn't even seem to notice how close we're sitting. He's far too distracted by his ice cream.

  
Dick's quiet as he eats, but he keeps turning to look at me, grinning every time our eyes meet. Every time he smiles, I swear my heart grows in size. He's so absolutely perfect and in just a few hours time, he'll be all mine.

  
When I've finished my ice cream, I look over at Dick and notice that he's only halfway through his. Chocolate ice cream covers his face, and I have to stop myself from leaning down and licking it right off his cheeks. We have the rest of our lives to do things like that. For now, just sitting here with Dick is good enough.

  
"I can't eat anymore." Dick says, looking down at his cone with a hopeless expression. I grin at him, and before I can stop myself, I lean over and give the chocolate ice cream a long lick. Dick's face is right next to mine as I do so, my gaze glued to his. His eyes are wide with astonishment, and it's dangerous how tempted I am to kiss those cute little lips of his. I can feel the blood rush to my cock, and before I can do something ridiculously stupid, I hear someone call Dick's name.

  
"Dick! What are you doing?!" A panicked voice screeches. I pull away in an instant, sitting up straight and trying to look innocent. Trying to make it look like I wasn't just attempting to seduce a young child.

  
Dick's mother, Mary Grayson, stands a few feet away from us, her eyes on me. She looks shocked and disgusted, but at the same time, there's recognition on her face. She knows who I am, and she remembers. Her eyes go to her son, and she rushes forward to pull him off the bench. Mary grabs Dick by the shoulders, giving him a hard look.

  
"You don't talk to strangers, you know that Dick!" She says, and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. She glares at me over his shoulder, giving me a look that could kill.

  
"I saw that, you know. I know who you are, and I don't care how much money you have. You look at my son like that again and I'll have you arrested." She whispers through her teeth. I raise an eyebrow at her, my face free of emotion. It takes a lot more than some circus brat to scare me off.

  
She picks Dick up and takes the ice cream out of his hand, throwing it into the nearest trash can. Dick smiles, an oblivious look on his face. He waves goodbye to me as Mary quickly walks away. I wave back, knowing this isn't really goodbye. Mary Grayson might not like the way I look at Dick, but in an hour from now, it won't matter what she thinks. She and her husband will be dead, and Dick will belong to me.

  
And what would you know? By the end of the night, Dick did belong to me.

 


	19. Phone Call

I open my eyes to find myself on a soft, blue mattress. I can smell fresh air and pine trees, the cool air hitting my skin and giving me goosebumps. I look around in panic, not knowing where I am.

  
There's a still lake to my left, the silver moon and the twinkling stars reflecting onto the water’s surface like a mirror. To the right of me is a dark patch of woods, the wind catching the leaves and sending them dancing through the air. I can hear crickets chirping and frogs croaking. I don't know where I am. I don't even recognize this place. How did I get here?

  
I shiver from the cold, and that's when I notice I'm naked except for some white briefs. I hear the snap of a branch breaking, and look up at the forest. I sigh with relief when I see a broad, tall figure walking towards me.

  
I'm surprised to see that Bruce is shirtless, his muscled chest glistening with sweat under the moonlight. I don't understand how he could be sweating when it's so cold out here. He wears a pair of dark blue jeans that sit low on his waist, and his hair is standing up in all different directions. He's barefoot, but doesn't even flinch as he walks on pebbles and twigs.

  
"Bruce? What's going on?" I ask in a quiet voice. Bruce gives me a pleasant but distant smile, as if I'm a stranger. I wait for him to answer me, but he doesn't. Instead, he silently makes his way towards me and only stops when he's standing right in front of the mattress. He gives me another strange smile, his eyes glittering with a secret.

  
I feel myself begin to shake under his gaze, not liking the way he's looking at me. His smile, which started off friendly, is now turning into something much more threatening. It's the kind of smile that terrifies me, that makes me whimper in fear.

  
"Goodbye, Dick." He says with a twisted grin, and before I can respond, he's pushing on the mattress with his foot, sending me straight into the water. I scramble and sputter in fear, watching desperately as I float away from Bruce. I tell myself to jump off the mattress and swim back to him, but I'm frozen on the spot. I scream at myself to do something, anything, but it's like I've lost control of my own body.

  
"Bruce! Bruce, please! Don't do this to me! Come back! I'm sorry, whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry! I love you! Bruce, please don't let me go! Bruce!" I scream at the top of my lungs, tears falling down my face in rivers. I hold the mattress tightly as I float farther and farther from Bruce. I'm still incapable of movement, and all I could do is watch Bruce smile at me and wave goodbye.

  
This can't be it. This can't be the end. Whatever I did to make Bruce upset, I'll fix it. I'll be better. I'll work harder to be the person Bruce has always wanted me to be. Bruce can't leave me, he just can't. Everyone else in my life has, and all I have left is him. He's my everything, without him, I am lost. Without Bruce, I don't even exist.

  
My vision becomes fuzzy with tears as I continue to cry out for him. The farther I float away, the smaller Bruce becomes, like a fading memory.

  
I can barely breath through my tears, my chest suddenly feeling like its being pressed down on. My throat closes up, my chest tightens, the air leaves my lungs. I can't breath, I can't breath, I can't breath. I can't live without Bruce. I am literally suffocating without him.

  
I feel something grab me by the shoulder and shake me hard. On instinct, I try to push whatever's bothering me away, but the grip on my shoulder is too strong. I shut my eyes tightly, and open them again.

  
The floating mattress is gone, replaced with Bruce's king sized bed. The quiet lake is gone, replaced with Bruce's clean bedroom. The woods and starry night are gone, replaced with afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows. I cry out in happiness when I see Bruce sitting over me, hands on my shoulders and a concerned look on his face.

  
He can't even get a word out before I'm jumping on top of him, throwing my arms around him and pressing my face against his chest. My cheeks are wet with tears, and I can't stop myself from sobbing into Bruce's shirt. He pulls me into his lap, a calming hand stroking my back.

  
"It's okay, you're okay. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. It was just a dream, Dick. I'm here now, you're safe. I've got you, you're safe." Bruce says in a comforting voice as I struggle to stop crying. "Breath, Dick, breath. You're going to make yourself sick."

  
I press my lips together and shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to stop crying. How pathetic am I that I can't even get myself to breath properly? Im a crybaby, a failure, a disappointment to both my parents and Bruce. It's no wonder Bruce abandoned me in my dream. I'm surprised he hasn't abandoned me in real life yet.

  
"Listen to my voice, do as I say. Breath in, breath out." Bruce instructs me in a slow and soothing voice. I do as he tells me. "In and out, in and out. That's it baby, you've got it. You're doing so good, Dick."

  
I don't know how long I sit there just breathing, listening to Bruce's pacifying voice. It could be hours, and even if it is, Bruce doesn't lose his patience with me. He holds me, and tells me that everything's okay, and reminds me to keep breathing.

  
When I've finally quieted down and can breath on my own again, Bruce runs a hand through my hair, the pads of his fingers pressing against my scalp. I wipe at my damp cheeks with the back of my sleeve, too embarrassed to meet Bruce's eyes. He might have been patient with me, but it doesn't mean I'm not a pitiful, lousy excuse for a human being. What type of person needs someone to help them breath?

  
"Feeling better now?" Bruce asks in a quiet voice. I nod, burying my face into his shirt. I can't even look at him, not after making such a fool of myself. "Can you look at me?"

  
I shake my head, gripping Bruce's shirt tighter. He gently tips my chin up so that our eyes meet. I feel my cheeks flush with color under his gaze, wishing more than anything to avoid his gaze. Bruce must be so disappointed in me.

  
"I'm sorry." I whimper with wide eyes, my lower lip trembling. A small smile appears on Bruce's face, his expression considerate and empathetic. He runs a light finger down the side of my face, watching me carefully.

  
"Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. You had a nightmare and it scared you. That's okay, I was here to comfort you. Everything is okay now." Bruce says quietly, and I almost sob with relief. I am so happy that Bruce isn't upset with me, that he doesn't think badly of me.

  
"You're not angry with me?" I whisper, the hopefulness clear in my tone. Bruce smiles at this, cupping my cheek lovingly.

  
"Never." He says, and it sounds like a promise.

  
Before I can properly think it through, I rush forward and press my lips against Bruce's. I kiss him gently, Bruce frozen beneath me. It's only a moment before he reciprocates, wrapping himself around me and pulling me closer. My mouth opens for him and his tongue slips in, massaging my own tongue delicately. I sigh into his mouth, Bruce's body rubbing against mine excitedly.

  
I don't know why I started kissing him, all I know is that Bruce is my everything. He's my whole world, and the only person who loves me and cares for me. Bruce is every inch of me. He's my heart beat, my fingers, my lips, my soul. I need to be near him, to have him hold me, I need him to tell me he loves me. I need Bruce to remind me that I am not alone in this world.

  
I can feel Bruce's erection against my stomach, causing a shiver to run down my spine. His hands start to wander, one hand running down my back and stopping on my ass, squeezing tightly. I gasp into the kiss, a cold feeling sinking into my stomach. There's the clearing of a throat, and Bruce pushes me away.

  
I collapse onto the bed on my back, gasping for breathe. I look up at Bruce, who's watching Alfred with a stony expression, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. Alfred stands by the opened door, his arms crossed behind his back and watching Bruce with a disapproving look.

  
"I did knock several times, but it appears you were distracted." Alfred says in crisp tone. I feel myself shrink in my spot, curling up on my side and pulling the blankets over me.

  
"What do you want, Alfred?" Bruce says impatiently. Alfred raises an eyebrow at him.

  
"Master Bruce, you know that I do not judge, but at least for the time being, I encourage self-restraint. It's important that Dick makes a full recovery before partaking in anything physical." Alfred says in a stern voice. I sit up, the blanket falling off of me.

  
"It was my fault Alfred. I started it." I say quickly.

  
It's not fair that Bruce gets all the blame for our relationship. I'm just as guilty as he is. Bruce would have never kissed me all those years ago if I didn't encourage it. I'm not sure what I did to give him the idea that I wanted him in that way, but I must have done something. Bruce wouldn't have sex with me unless he knew it's what I wanted too. So what if I never actually like having sex with him? I'm only thirteen years old. I don't know what I like. Bruce is the adult and my guardian, and he always knows what's best for me.

  
"There's a Miss Barbara Gordon on the phone asking for Master Dick." Alfred tells Bruce, ignoring me and handing the house phone over. My spirits brighten instantly at the mention of Barbara, pleasantly surprised to hear that she's actually on the phone waiting to talk to me. When she said she would find a way to talk to me again, I didn't think she actually would. I reach out to take the phone from Alfred, but Bruce grabs it before I can.

  
"Hello?" Bruce says, pressing the phone to his ear, his eyebrows pulled together and his expression hard. He looks angry, and that's never a good sign. I chew on my lower lip, wishing I was the one talking to Barbara, not Bruce. She did call to talk to me, after all.

  
"No Barbara, this is Bruce." He says, his voice toneless. I lean in closer, hoping to hear Barbara's side of the conversation. "He can't come to the phone right now. He's not well. Dick will be fine. He hit his head against the table and has a concussion."

  
It's not a total lie. I did hit my head against the table, he's just leaving out the first part of the story.

  
"It's not as bad as it sounds. He should be fine within a few weeks. No, there's nothing you could do for him. All he needs is me." Bruce says, his voice turning sour.

  
I don't understand why Bruce seems to hate Babs so much. Just because she made me happy for a night? I want Bruce to like her. I want Bruce and I to like the same people. I don't want to have a friend if Bruce doesn't approve. There's no opinion that matters to me more than Bruce's.

  
"He'll call you when he's feeling better. Okay, thank you Barbara. I'll let him know. Have a good day, bye." Bruce hangs up the phone, giving it back to Alfred. I'm about to ask what Barbara said when my stomach begins to growl loudly.

  
"I think it's time we get some food into you, Master Dick." Alfred says with a raised brow. Bruce gives me a half smile.

  
"Pancakes please, Alfred, and bring the whole bottle of syrup." Bruce says, not taking his eyes off of me. Alfred nods and silently leaves the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as we're alone again, Bruce playfully tackles me down to the bed, grabbing my wrists and holding them above my head. I smile and giggle as he rests on his hands and knees above me. 

Our eyes meet and my smile fades. Sometimes, like right now, Bruce will look at me a certain way, and I never know what to do when he does. He looks at me like I'm something he's never seen before, like I'm the most magnificent thing he's ever laid eyes on.

  
I am so thankful that dream I had isn't my reality. I am so glad that Bruce has no plans of sending me away via mattress on a lake, which is just ridiculous to begin with. It was a strange dream, and I know that I should have known at the time that it wasn't real, but everything about it seemed real. The dream was so vivid. I was able to smell and hear everything.  
I sigh loudly, feeling the tiredness of my bones. I don't know how long I've was asleep for, but it must have been a long time. I'm still tired though, I can still close my eyes and fall right back to sleep. My eyelids flutter closed as Bruce watches me, and I feel the whisper of his lips against my cheek.

 

 

  
***********************

 

 

  
At first, I'm confused when I wake up. I'm curled up in fetal position, pressing against Bruce's side. The same way a lion's cub would sleep with its mother. He has an arm around me, and a finger runs down my neck, causing me to hum with pleasure. When he notices that I'm awake, Bruce lowers his face to mine and lightly brushes our noses against each other's. It makes me giggle, and Bruce grins at my reaction. It's such a loving gesture that Bruce has never done before, and I think I love it. It makes me feel adored, cared for.

  
"Breakfast is served, or should I say, lunch." Alfred says from somewhere in the room. Bruce lets out a loud sigh before pulling away from me, pouting for a moment before pouting on an stoic expression. I take my time sitting up, feeling how exhausted my body is. Why am I so tired now? I didn't feel this sleepy when I woke up earlier.

  
"Thank you Alfred. You can leave it on the bed." Bruce says as he leans back against the headboard. I rub at my eyes as Alfred places a large tray of pancakes and fruit onto the bed. Alfred gives Bruce a curt nod before leaving. I watch as Bruce takes an empty plate and begins to stack some freshly made pancakes onto it. I inhale the delicious scent and smile. Bruce slathers some butter on top and pours on the syrup. I lick my lips as I watch the syrup drip onto my pancakes and pool around the edges of the plate.

  
"You know you don't have to do that for me, right? I can butter my own pancakes." I say, and then let out a big yawn. Bruce doesn't spare me a glance as he decorates the sides of the plate with strawberries and blueberries.

  
"I like taking care of you. It's my job. It's nice to be depended on. Besides, you need to save your energy." He says as he hands me the plate. I lean back and place my meal on my lap, leaning over to take sip from one of the tall glasses of ice water.

  
"I do feel really tired again. I didn't feel that way before." I say, placing my glass back down. I pick up a fork and knife and begin to cut into my golden brown pancakes, smiling to myself. Bruce rarely lets me eat syrup. He says it's too sugary. That's one of the few good things of being sick or injured; Bruce breaks his own rules to make me happy. Or maybe he's just feeling bad about slamming my head against the table. It's not like I didn't deserve it though.

  
"It's probably because you exerted most of your energy try to get me to fuck you." Bruce says casually as he finishes making his plate and takes a bite into his pancakes. I feel myself go beet red at his choice of words, slowly chewing on my food. I can't even taste the sweetness of the butter as I swallow. I'm too distracted by what Bruce just said.

  
I wasn't trying to get Bruce to fuck me before. That wasn't my intention. I just needed to be with him, to feel his body against mine, to feel his warm skin. I just needed to be reminded that he loved me, that someone loves me. I wasn't thinking about anything else but that. I don't think I was, but what do I know?

  
Bruce notices how embarrassed this makes me and he lets out a deep chuckle.

  
"I love it when you blush. It makes me so hard." Bruce says, his eyes raking my body. I practically choke on my food when he says, my arms instinctively wrapping around my torso. His words only make me go redder, which I know is only making him harder, and that makes me cry out in frustration. I shove my face into my hands in an effort to hide how hot my cheeks are getting. Bruce's chuckle turns into a loud laugh.

  
I'm not used to hearing Bruce talk that way. I don't think I like how cavalier he is about us having sex, or about how my embarrassment turns him on. He acts like those things aren't a big deal, like they don't mean anything. He acts like us having sex is something that's typical, normal for people with such a huge age difference. Can someone even use the word normal to describe me and Bruce? What the hell does normal even mean?!

  
"Eat your food before it gets cold." Bruce says once he manages to stop laughing, gesturing to my plate with his fork. I pick up a strawberry and nibble on it, trying to distract myself with happier thoughts. I think about how nice it is to eat in bed. It's so much less formal than at the dining room table. It's almost enjoyable. I love having breakfast in bed.

  
I think about what Alfred said earlier about it actually being lunchtime. I glance over at the alarm clock and am shocked to see that it's 1:30 in the afternoon.

  
"Bruce, shouldn't you be at work right now?" I ask curiously as I bite into my strawberry. Strawberry juice runs down my chin.

  
"I took the day off. The company can survive a day without me there. I knew that you were hurt, and I wanted to be here for you." He answers, his eyes focused on my face. Bruce looks almost hypnotized, and before I can ask what's wrong, he's leaning towards me.

  
I expect him to kiss me, but instead, his tongue flickers out and he slowly licks up the strawberry juice that's dribbling down my chin. I gasp as he does, feeling his warm tongue against my skin. He lets out a deep groan, a hand dragging down my neck to my arms. I quiver under his touch, leaning back on my hands.

  
"Bruce," I whisper, my eyes closing tightly. His mouth moves to my neck, sucking and licking the skin there. I can feel my heartbeat quicken, and as Bruce's hands move further down my body, I begin to panic. "Remember what Alfred said about physical activity?"

  
Bruce growls against my skin, his hands coming back up to wrap around my neck. His hands are so large and my neck is so small that he could choke me without a problem if he wanted to. Bruce would never do that, but for half a second, I actually think he might. It's another tense moment before he pulls away, a scowl on his face.

  
There's a terrible silence as I wait for Bruce to speak, but he doesn't. Bruce just picks his fork up and stabs at his pancakes angrily.

  
I feel guilty, like I did something wrong, and it's because I did do something wrong. If I had just listened to Bruce last night and answered his questions, then I wouldn't have hit my head on the table. If I hadn't hit my head, I wouldn't have a concussion and have to sustain from any physical activities. If I was able to do something physical, then Bruce and I would be able to have sex and Bruce wouldn't be so frustrated right now. So yeah, all of this is my fault. Who else is there to blame?

  
Bruce pushes his plate off his lap, telling me that he has to go to the bathroom and that he'll be right back. I nod and shove more pancake into my mouth as Bruce closes the bathroom door behind him. I jump when I feel the vibration of Bruce's cell phone against my thigh, making the water in my hands shake and almost spill over. Bruce wouldn't be happy if I spilled water all over his bed.

  
I hadn't even noticed Bruce's phone was there. I'm surprised he left it at all. He usually takes it with him wherever he goes. He must be really distracted. I can hear heavy panting and quiet moans coming from the bathroom, and I wonder if he went to the bathroom for a reason that isn't for the toilet.

  
The phone continues to vibrate, and it's how I know that someone's calling. I know I shouldn't answer it. I know I should just mind my own business, because that's what Bruce would want me to do. But my gut's telling me to look at the caller ID. Something inside if me is screaming at me to answer the phone. Besides, what if it's emergency and the person calling needs to talk to Bruce right away? What's the harm, really, if I answer his phone? Bruce doesn't even need to know.

  
I glance at the caller ID, but it only says that someone under the letter S is calling. Curiosity burns through me as I pick up the phone, hesitating for only a millisecond before answering it and putting it to my ear.

  
"Hello?" I whisper, so Bruce won't hear me. I expect to hear an older man's voice, or maybe a woman. I figure this mysterious S person either works with Bruce or is his new girlfriend. I'm wrong on both accounts though.

  
Because the voice on the line, it doesn't belong to an adult. It sounds like the voice of little girl.

  
"Daddy?"

  
The cell phone slips out of my hand. 


	20. Good Boys

The phone falls out of my hand as if it's just electrocuted me. It bounces against the blankets, and I stare down at it in shock. I can still hear the distant voice of the girl on the phone. She's asking for Bruce, but by a different name. She wants to talk to the person I know better than anyone else, but clearly, that's not saying much at all.

  
I quickly snatch up the phone to hang up and then drop it back onto the bed. I don't even want to touch that thing. I don't want anything to do with the device that has just turned my entire world upside down.

  
I sit there, tapping my right thigh nervously, as I try to make sense of what I heard on the phone. I bite down so hard on my bottom lip that it begins to bleed, but I barely notice this. I'm thinking about that little girl, and the innocent way she asked for her daddy. The way she said that name, I could almost hear the tears in her voice. I could hear how desperate she was to talk him. It was clear how much she missed him.

  
A billion questions run through my head, and I don't even know which one to focus on first. For one, who is this girl? Where did she come from? I mean, I know where she came from biologically, but how could this have happened to Bruce? When it comes to his girlfriends, Bruce is always extra careful. He has a full drawer of condoms right next to his bed that he uses with anyone who isn't me. When you have sex as much as Bruce does, you have to take precautions. So how did this one slip through the cracks?

  
I think about everything Bruce has said to me these past years. I think about all the times he's told me he loves, how he doesn't love anyone more than me, how I'm the most important thing in his life. I think about how I asked him if there were anymore secrets he was hiding from me, and how Bruce looked me right in the eyes and told me there wasn't. I don't think I've ever met anyone who lies as often as Bruce does, and does such a convincing job of it too.

  
All this time Bruce has told me I'm all he has, but none of that was ever true. How could I, a circus orphan, be the thing he loves most in the world when he has a biological daughter out there in the world? I can't trust anything he says. For all I know, everything he's ever told me could be a lie. How am I supposed to know he loves me when all he does is lie to me?

  
How stupid I was to think I was important to Bruce when he has a little girl waiting around somewhere for him! From the sound of her voice, she couldn't be more than three, maybe four years old. Whoever she is, I bet she's perfect. I bet she's the cutest child you've ever seen, and I bet she's sunshine, rainbows, and smiles all the time. She probably doesn't mess up half as much as I do. She's probably the child Bruce was hoping I would be, but I'm not. I'm just a failure.

  
The bathroom door swings open, and I can't even bring myself to look at Bruce when he crawls back into bed. I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him ever again. He's not the person I thought he was. This changes everything. This little girl, whoever she is, has changed everything I know about Bruce.

  
I stare down at my meal, but I'm not thinking about how yummy the pancakes look. I can't even think about food right now. All I can think about is Bruce, that little girl, and everything Bruce has ever done. I think about the long hours he leaves the house for, and how I never know for sure where he is during that time. I've always assumed that he was at work, but my assumptions have never been totally confirmed. Sure, I've visited Bruce at Wayne Enterprises once or twice, but Bruce always calls beforehand to let Alfred know to bring me. Bruce is out of the manor for a huge chunk of the day, and in that matter of time, he could be doing a thousand different things.

  
"Are you okay, Dick? You don't look so good." Bruce says, bringing me back to reality. I can feel his eyes on me, and I know that no matter how much I might not want to, I have to look at him at some point. I can't pretend Bruce isn't there. That's impossible for me.

  
"I'm not hungry anymore." I say in a small voice. I feel the bed shift as Bruce leans in closer, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I stay frozen in my spot, unresponsive to his touch.

  
"You need to eat. You didn't keep down your dinner last night, and you're weak and tired as it is. Finish your meal." Bruce says, disregarding what I said. I glare down at my food, a burst of sudden anger flaring through me. It's just like Bruce to ignore what I want, and insist I do things his way. I want to protest, I want to slam my fork down and tell Bruce that I refuse to eat. I want to tell him that he can't make me do anything I don't want to do.

  
That's how I'd like to respond, but I don't. Instead, I pick up my utensils with a shaky hand and begin to cut up my pancakes. I swallow the food down, not even tasting it. Bruce has just started eating again when his phone begins to vibrate, signaling another call.

  
We both look down at the phone at the same time, my eyes going wide. Bruce looks surprised that it's even there, like he hadn't realized he had left it there. He picks it up before I can see who the caller is. I finally look up at him, and it pisses me off how perfect he looks. It doesn't make sense that someone so secretive can be so handsome. It's not fair how just looking at him makes me want forgive him. Simply looking at Bruce makes me look for an excuse for his misdoings.

  
Bruce's mouth tightens into a thin line when he sees who's calling, and he slips out of bed before answering. He turns his back to me as he presses the cell phone to his ear.

  
"I told you I couldn't come in today." He says impatiently. Theres a few seconds of silence before Bruce pulls the iPhone from his ear and covers it with his hand. He turns to me with an apologetic look.

  
"I'm sorry, it's work. I'll only be a minute, alright?" He says quietly. I nod silently, and he gestures to my plate. "Finish your food. Stay in here."

  
Bruce says those words like they're a command, and he sends me a warning look as he does. I watch him leave the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I can hear his footsteps fade down the hallway.

  
I shove the rest of my meal down my throat, wanting this part of the day to be over. A few minutes ago, everything was peaceful, good, and right, but then that girl called and she ruined all of it. I wonder if that's who Bruce is talking to right now. It's possible that it's someone else on the phone. The way Bruce greeted the person on the other line wasn't exactly a "daddy" kind of greeting. It could be someone who works with him, but at the same time, it could be that little girl.

  
I wonder what that girl's life is like. Does she even realize how important her father is to Gotham City? To the whole country? Where does she live and who takes care of her? What's her name, and does she know what kind of things Bruce does to me behind closed doors? No, of course she doesn't know about any of that. There's no way she could possibly know about that.

  
I finish my last handful of blueberries, and push my empty dish away. A terrible thought comes to me, and I feel myself go cold with fear. Is it possible that Bruce does the same things to her that he does to me? It might be that I'm not the only minor he touches a little too intimately.

  
I don't know how that makes me feel. I feel afraid for her. Bruce is so big, so threatening. I can't imagine how a small toddler would be able to take him. I can barely take him and I'm thirteen. I can't help the picture that comes to my mind. The idea of Bruce's muscular built crushing an innocent girl. Too tiny to handle Bruce's large dick, her screaming and crying as he breaks her in half.

  
I'm scared for the girl, but there's also another feeling clawing at my stomach. Just knowing that there are other people that Bruce touches the same way he touches me makes me so angry. I already knew that he did that with all of his girlfriends, but to do that with another kid? I don't know why, but it makes me blind with wrath.

  
Bruce loves me, only me. He's said it over and over again, a thousand times, and if that's not the truth, then I don't know what is. Bruce can't love someone the same way he loves me. He just can't, because if there is someone Bruce loves the same way he loves me, that means I'm expendable. That means he could get rid of me at anytime, and would have no problem replacing me. And that's the very worst thing could happen.

  
Bruce comes back into the room, breaking me out of thoughts. I look up at him, but Bruce pays me no attention. His eyes are on his phone, scrolling through something. His face is focused and his expression is hard, Bruce's eyes narrowing suspiciously. I shift in my spot, guilt overwhelming me.

  
I never should have answered that phone call. Bruce doesn't even like it when I so much as touch his phone without his permission. It's stupid of me to touch anything of Bruce's without his say so. If he finds out I answered one of his calls, he will most definitely punish me. I shiver just at the thought, the memory of his urine going down my throat coming to my mind. I don't want to have to relive that moment ever again.

  
"Is everything okay, Bruce?" I ask, trying and failing to sound calm. Bruce turns from his phone to me, his eyes intense and piercing. It feels like he's looking right into the deepest and darkest parts of me, my secrets all out there for him to see. I hate how I can't seem to hide anything from Bruce. I hate how when it comes to Bruce, I'm an open book.

  
"Were you on my phone?" He asks in a slow voice, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's. My stomach drops at his question, my palms and forehead starting to sweat. I can feel my heart skip a beat.

  
"Uh, I, uh, I can explain." I stutter, trying to take the jumbled thoughts in my head and form words out of them. This obviously doesn't work.

  
Bruce watches me expectedly, an eyebrow raised and his jaw clenched. I don't like his expression, and I can feel myself start to tremble with fear. It amazes me, really, how idiotic I could be. I can't believe I actually thought Bruce wouldn't know if I answered his phone. Of course Bruce would know. Bruce knows everything.

  
"Dick, I was just looking at my call history. I saw that someone called when I was in the bathroom, and I saw that you answered it. Do you want to tell me how that could have happened when you know that you aren't supposed to touch my phone?" Bruce says, his voice getting harsher with each word. I'm frozen, incapable of moving. I'm too scared to talk, to think, to do anything.

  
One moment, I'm as still as a statue, and then in the next, I'm scrambling onto the floor in front of Bruce's feet. I look at him hopelessly, clutching his pants tightly. I know I look pathetic. I know that's exactly what Bruce is thinking as he looks down at me with a self-satisfied smirk, but I don't care. I don't care about how I may look right now, because all I care about is Bruce forgiving me.

  
"I'm sorry, Bruce, I'm so, so sorry. I know I shouldn't have, and I don't know why I did, but I'm sorry. I know it was wrong and I regret it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I say desperately, shoving my face into his pants and wrapping my arms around his legs. I begin to cry, my tears staining Bruce's expensive jeans. I hate myself for it. I hate that I'm such a sad human being, and I hate the fact that I'm actually begging at Bruce's feet. I expect him to tell me to get up, to tell me to have some dignity, but that's not what Bruce does. Instead, I feel him lean down and pat my head, making calm shushing sounds.

  
"It's okay, Dick, it's okay. I know you're not feeling well, I know things are hard right now. I'm not angry, I forgive you. I can see how upset this is making you, and you know that you were in the wrong." Bruce whispers. My heavy heart lightens at his reassurance, my whole body washing over with relief. My tears stop as I rub my cheek against his leg, thankful for Bruce's compassion and understanding.

  
"Thank you, Bruce. I love you, I love you so much." I say, meaning every word of it. He might lie to me and keep a lot of secrets, but Bruce is still the most loving and most humane person I know. So how can I not forgive him for not telling me about that little girl? He's forgiven me for so much worse, and I'm sure Bruce has a good excuse for keeping her a secret. I'm sure it's a lot more complicated than I could possibly understand.

  
"Come on up here." Bruce says patiently, tugging on my arms. I'm so quick to stand up that I almost trip in the process. I stand in front of Bruce, my body so close to his that we're almost touching. He caresses my face lovingly, cupping my cheeks and lifting my chin. I look up at him with wide eyes, my cheeks damp with my tears. Bruce watches me carefully, searching my face for something.

  
"I know who it is you heard on the phone. Do you want to tell me about it?" Bruce says cautiously, giving me time to think about his question. I turn my gaze away from him, not wanting to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Bruce knows that I heard that girl on the phone ask for her daddy, but he's not forcing me to talk about it. He's giving me a choice, an escape route. Bruce is clearly saying that we don't have to talk about it if I don't want to.

 

"No, I don't." I say, our eyes meeting again. I think, for the time being at least, it's best that I don't know more than I already do. I can't handle all of that right now. In this very moment, all I can handle is me and Bruce. Maybe in the the future I'll be able to talk about this mysterious daughter, but not today. Today I just want to pretend that it's me and Bruce. Just me and Bruce, and no one else.

Bruce nods, his thumb stroking my cheek. I close my eyes, leaning into his warm hand. My breathe catches when I feel a familiar pair of lips against mine. The kiss is light, chaste, and quick. It feels as though my heart begins to cry when he pulls away.

  
An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me so close that my body presses against his. I grab Bruce's shoulders for support as he lifts me off my feet. My legs dangle so awkwardly that I have no choice but to wrap them around his waist. Bruce's lips glide across my face to my ear, as light as a feather.

  
"Let's get you in a hot bath."

 

 

  
**************************

 

 

"Are you sure I don't need to be punished?" I ask as Bruce wipes the washcloth down my soapy thigh. I wobble on shaky legs as his hand runs up and down my naked body, coming dangerously close to touching my soft penis. He watches me with a soft expression, looking me up and down with a smile. It's clear how much he's enjoying bathing me.

  
"Do you think you need to be punished?" Bruce asks as he dips the washcloth back into the bath water, and then gently wipes it down my other leg. I glance away, licking my lips nervously. I don't like being naked like this for Bruce while he sits there fully clothed. I don't like him bathing me like I'm a toddler. Not when I am perfectly capable of doing this by myself. This whole situation makes me uncomfortable, but more than that, I feel guilty. I feel like I've done something wrong, and now I should be punished for it.

  
"It was wrong of me to answer your phone. I wasn't the good boy you expect me to be." I say, and this is seems to catch Bruce's attention. He looks at me with a surprised expression, and I wonder what it was I said that shocked him so much.

  
"That's true. You weren't a good boy at all." Bruce agrees, dropping the washcloth and wrapping his hands around the back of my knees. He pushes my knees forward, causing me to collapse onto my butt, the water splashing everywhere. Bruce's eyes are wide and focused, his whole face lit up. His eyes sparkle with interest, a threatening smile creeping onto his face. "Good boys listen. Good boys don't break the rules. You haven't been a very good boy, Dick."

  
Bruce runs a hand through my wet hair, his grip tightening to the point where it's painful. He pulls on the strands, making me wince.

  
"And to be a good boy, you need to be punished." Bruce says, his voice low and menacing. And then he pushes my head down under the water.


	21. Maybe

I lay on my back in Bruce's bed, the iPad on my stomach and my head resting against the fluffy pillows. I watch the TV comedy with a smile, bursting into laughter every few minutes. I am so thankful that Bruce is letting me borrow his iPad until I fully recover from my concussion. It was his idea to watch something on Netflix that has loads of seasons, and is light and funny.

  
When he first handed me the iPad, I thought it was some sort of joke. Bruce never lets me touch his iPad. He says that looking at a bright screen for too long is bad for your eyes, and that the Internet corrupts people. Which is why it was such a surprise when he gave it to me, and said I could watch something on Netflix to help pass the time in bed.

  
It's my first time ever using Netflix and I love it. People who are allowed constant access to Netflix are so lucky. They have so many shows and movies you could watch, and it's all just one touch away. I'm not used to using technology like this.

  
My parents were always poor, so we couldn't afford things like laptops and cell phones. We lived in a cluttered trailer where the most high tech thing we owned was a small TV that could only play video tapes. We also had a lot of secondhand books. I always had a small pile of books by my bed. My mother would read to me every night before I went to sleep. I would close me eyes and listen to her melodious voice. I miss those nights all the time. I would trade all the technology in the world if it meant I can have those night back.

  
But that's no longer my life. My life is in Gotham City with a playboy billionaire. The manor is covered in all of the latest technology and I'm not allowed to touch any of it. At least, not without Bruce's permission, and he rarely gives me permission.

  
The credits start to roll, and a little box that previews the next episode pops up at the bottom of the screen. I'm five seasons into watching _The Office_ , and I still have four more seasons to go. I've been recovering from this concussion for three weeks now, and I'm starting to get antsy. I'm feeling much better now than I did since that first day. I no longer feel so weak all the time and I'm not getting anymore headaches.

  
While at first I didn't really notice my head hurting, it started to become painfully obvious after Bruce had finished punishing me on that first day. Bruce had spent at least twenty minutes shoving my head underwater, seeing how long I could hold my breathe before choking. I remember struggling to break the surface when I felt like my lungs were going to burst. I couldn't move though, because Bruce's fist in my hair was keeping me down, and he was just too strong. Every time he lifted my head out of the water, I would choke, and gag, and cough up bathwater. It all made Bruce very pleased, and while it might have been very painful for me, I knew it was the punishment I deserved.

  
It wasn't until after that, when Bruce had carried me back to bed, that my head started to ache. And from there, the headaches started to get worse and worse to the point where it made me cry. Most of the time it felt like my brain was on fire. Every six hours, Alfred was at my bedside with a glass of water and two small pills in his hand. It was such a relief every time I saw him standing there.

  
As the days went by, the pain lessened and I felt my strength slowly start to return. That's when Bruce gave me the iPad to borrow until I'm fully healed. Now, all I want to do is spend all day in bed and watch an endless amount of TV and movies. Being pulled into another world, having my mind focus on something else besides my own problems, is so refreshing. It's like going on a vacation from my brain.

  
It makes it so that I don't have to think about my own life. For just a while, I can pretend to live a different life. A happier, more entertaining one. A life that doesn't make me so sad all of the time. A life that doesn't make me want to cry.

  
There's a knock on the bedroom door, and I pull the earphones out of my ears. I pause the show and turn off the iPad, looking over at the doorway.

  
"Come in." I say before Alfred's pushing the door opened. I sit up straight as soon as I see who's with him. Barbara follows Alfred into the room, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me. She's wearing the Gotham Academy uniform, her tie undone and hanging around her neck. Her sleeves are rolled up, and her plaid pleated skirt sways with every step. A black messenger bag hangs across her body, her red hair pulled back in a low ponytail. It's obvious that she just came from school. She's so pretty, it makes me sweat.

  
"Babs, hi." I say breathlessly, my hand running through my hair in an effort to make myself look more presentable. I'm in sweatpants, a long sleeve thermal, and I have a bad case of bed head. It's not exactly how I wanted to look the next time Barbara saw me. She gives me a bright smile, clutching the strap of her bag.

  
"Miss Barbara was insistent on seeing you, Master Dick." Alfred explains, looking from Babs to me. I smile, flattered that someone besides Bruce would actually want to see me. "She knows you haven't been feeling well and came to keep you company."

  
"I hope that's okay. I can leave if you'd rather be alone." Barbara says quickly, but I shake my head at her. Her leaving is the last thing I want.

  
"It's more than okay, it's great. I'm glad you came." I say, placing the iPad on the nightstand. Babs gives me a huge grin, and I can't help but return the smile. Just having her here instantly puts me in a lighter, better mood. I can't believe Barbara actually went out of her way to come visit me. I thought for sure she would give up on trying to see me again. I thought maybe she would think it's too much effort to be my friend. I'm happy to find out that's not the case.

  
"I'll give you two some privacy then." Alfred says without a hint of emotion as he leaves the room. Usually he closes the door when he leaves, but I notice that this time, he leaves the door slightly opened.

  
Barbara sits at the edge of the bed. She takes the bag off her shoulder and puts it down next to her, her side bangs falling in front of her eyes. I watch as she tucks her hair back behind her ear and turns to face me.

  
"So how are you feeling? When Bruce told me what happened, I got so worried. I would have visited you earlier, but my dad kept telling me to give you time to rest." She says. I lean against the headboard, trying to hide my clothes under the blankets. I'm still embarrassed to be sitting here in my pajamas while Babs is sitting there all put together and looking perfect.

  
"Yeah, I really wasn't doing that well in the beginning, but I'm doing much better now. Alfred says that by the end of the week, I should be able to get back to my usual routine." I answer.

  
"And what is your usual routine?" Barbara asks. She moves to sit father into the middle of the bed, tucking one leg under her, and turning so she's facing me more fully.

  
"Eh, nothing that interesting. Alfred wakes me up at eight every morning to have breakfast with Bruce, Bruce leaves and I spend most of the rest of the day doing schoolwork. He typically doesn't come home until after dinner." I explain with a wave of my hand.

  
I've obviously given Barbara the PG rated version of my daily routine. I've left out the part where Bruce comes home and fucks me to the point where I can't breath anymore. Not that he's been doing that lately, but that's only because Alfred keeps reminding him I shouldn't be doing anything that's too physical. That hasn't stopped Bruce from holding me and kissing me though. Every time he does, I can tell how desperately he wants more. I can feel how hard he gets when he's pressed against me. I see the way his hand twitches every time he gets too close to my ass or dick. I know that he's craving for more than I can give him right now, and I know if he's not getting it from me, he's getting it from someone else. And that really pisses me off.

  
"Sounds lonely." Babs says, watching me with a soft expression. I can hear the pity in her voice, and I shrug in response. She's right, it is lonely, but there's nothing I can do about it. Bruce doesn't like me leaving the manor without him. "Bruce seems to work a lot."

  
"He does, or at least, that's what he says he does all day." I don't even realize what I've said before it's too late. That's not what I meant to say. Barbara's eyebrows pull together in confusion.

  
"You think he's lying to you?" She asks. I bite my lower lip, wondering if I should tell Babs what I know. One one hand, we don't know each other very well, and I don't know if I can trust her yet. On the other hand, I feel like I need to tell someone about everything that's been going on recently. I'm so sick of keeping all these thoughts locked in my head. I've been trying not to think about that little girl on the phone, but she always comes back to my mind. No amount of Netflix can makes her voice in my head go away.

  
Maybe telling Babs about all of this stuff will help. Maybe she can help me make sense of it all. Besides, I think she's already proven how good of a friend she could be by working so hard to see me again. Not just anyone would do that for me.   
"I know for sure he's lying to me." I say after a long moment. Barbara looks at me in shock.

  
"I don't really know Bruce Wayne. I know he's good friends with my dad, but I've only talked to the guy a couple of times in my life." Barbara shifts in her spot, looking down at her lap. "Are you sure you want to tell me this, Dick? This kind of stuff is really personal, and I wouldn't want to, like, invade your privacy or anything."

  
"Babs please, I need to tell someone about this. I can't keep it to myself anymore." I insist. Barbara makes a good point, but it doesn't change the fact that I need to talk these things through with someone. I can't do that with Bruce or Alfred, so Barbara's my last option.

  
Babs nods at this, deep in thought. She puts a finger to her lip before her face lights up, as if she just remembered something. Out of her bag, Barbara pulls out a clear container of chocolate chip cookies, presenting them to me with a proud smile.

  
"This is totally off topic, but I wanted to give these to you before I forgot. I'd say I baked them myself, but that would be a lie. I can't bake to save my life. They were left over from a house party my dad and I went to the other day." She says.

  
I look down at the cookies, the chocolate chips already starting to melt. I'm not allowed to eat chocolate, but I am still touched by the gesture. Barbara didn't have to visit me, much less bring cookies with her, and yet she did. Her going through all this effort for me means a lot to me. Besides Bruce, no one has has tried so hard in the past few years to really get to know me.

  
"Wow Babs, I don't know what to say. That was so nice of you. Thank you." I sputter, picking out a cookie and taking a small bite. I know that if Bruce finds out I was eating junk food, he'll be upset, but it would be rude of me not to eat one. Barbara did bring them for me, after all. I'm only doing what's polite, and Bruce would approve of that.

  
She puts the container of cookies between two of us, taking one for herself. I close my eyes, enjoying the deliciousness of the cookie. Not being able to eat desserts makes you appreciate them that much more when you can eat them. The chocolate is all gooey, warm, and makes me buzz with content.

  
"It was nothing, really. I find chocolate to be excellent brain food." Babs says with a grin, taking another bite. "Anyway, back to more important matters. You were saying that you know for sure Bruce is lying. How so?" She says, and I nod as I finish my cookie and lick the chocolate off my fingers.

  
"I've always just assumed that when Bruce went out for the day, he was at work. I know that he spends some of that time seeing whatever woman he's currently dating, but I didn't think there was much more to it then that, you know? Until a couple of weeks ago, when I answered his phone and...."

  
Barbara watches me patiently, waiting for me to continuing. I bite my lower lip, hesitant to tell her the next part of the story. Bruce having a daughter is really private news, and I'm not sure if Babs has a right to know about that.

  
"Okay, what I have to tell you is super serious, and you have to promise not tell a soul what I'm about to tell you. No one, under any circumstance, can know about this." I say, my voice quieting. I glance at the doorway, almost expecting Alfred to be standing there, listening to our conversation. He's not, and I know I'm just being paranoid.

  
"You're scaring me." Babs says, her expression turning to one of worry.

  
"Just promise you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Not even your dad." I say, looking her straight in the eyes. It's apparent to me that whoever that little girl on the phone may be, the public doesn't know about her. If the public did know, then I would definitely know. Whoever this child may be, Bruce has been keeping her a secret for a reason, and it's not my place to expose his secrets to the world.

  
"I promise. I know how to keep a secret, I swear." Barbara says, sitting up straight and putting on a much more serious face. She's trying to look more adult, and the effort she's putting into it makes me smile.

  
I take a deep breathe before going into the details of the phone call. I tell about the young voice who asked for her daddy, and how the caller ID came up as the letter S. I also tell Barbara about Bruce knowing I answered the phone, offering to talk about it with me, and me rejecting the offer. That's all I tell her though. I don't dare tell Babs about all the other details. I don't even think about mentioning the crying and begging at Bruce's feet, or how he bathed and almost drowned me. Those are details that I know she just wouldn't understand.

  
"Huh." Is all she says once I've finished my story. She cocks her head to the side, her forehead scrunched in thought. Throughout the whole story, Barbara remained quiet and listened patiently. She never responded with anything more than a shocked expression and wide eyes. It just makes me all that more anxious to know what she thinks about all of this.

  
"I never imagined that Bruce Wayne would have a secret daughter somewhere." She says after a minute. All I can do is nod in return, because I agree with her. Bruce having a secret child is the last thing I would have ever expected. "Although, it kind of makes sense when you think about it. I mean, he is a billionaire. He's bound to have a ton of skeletons in his closet. Makes you wonder what other dark secrets he has."

  
I chew on my lip, thinking that Barbara doesn't realize how right she is. Bruce has a lot of skeletons in his closet, and I'm the worst of them. I'm the darkest, dirtiest secret of them all.

  
"Dick, listen to me." Babs says earnestly. I look up at her, pulling at a loose string on the blankets nervously. While it did feel good to tell someone about my problems, I am still worried that Barbara might tell someone. I know she said she won't, but I can't help but imagine what Bruce would do to me if his secret did reach the media's ears. It would be all my fault, and who knows what Bruce would do to me then.

  
"You're not going to tell anyone, right? If people find out about this, Bruce will kill me." I rush to say, my body going tense. I can feel my heartbeat go faster just at the thought of Bruce finding out I told anyone about that little girl. He would punish me for sure, and I have a feeling that whatever that punishment might be, it'll be a lot worse than anything I could imagine.

  
"Of course not! I swear, your secret is safe with me. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." Babs reassures me. I sigh in relief, my entire body relaxing at her promise. She hesitates before continuing, "But I do think this is something you should talk to Bruce about. I know you don't want to, I know you're scared of how this might change things between the two of you, but I think it's what's best. Honestly? If it was me? I'd love to find out I had a sister or brother. It just means more people to love."

  
My hands begin to twist in my lap as I think about everything Barbara just said. She's probably right when she says that I should talk about this with Bruce. It's probably not helping that I'm refusing to talk about it, and maybe he wants to talk about it with me anyway. He did kind of bring it up that day. Maybe he's been wanting to talk about it for a while, but could just never find a way to tell me. It's kind of a hard thing to bring up in the first place. I mean, how do you tell someone that's like family to you that you have an illegitimate daughter hiding somewhere? How would someone even start that conversation?

  
"Dick, a lot of people don't like change. I know I don't." Barbara stops for a moment, swallowing loudly. She shifts her gaze away from me, and I can see her struggle to hold back tears. It fills my heart with sadness to see Barbara get so visibly upset. I wonder what it is that could make her so distraught, and I wonder if it's something I could make her feel better about.

  
"A few years ago, when I was younger, my life completely changed." She continues, "I didn't even recognize my family anymore. I hated it, it was the worst. I would wake up every morning hoping things had gone back to the way they used to be. They hadn't, and over time, I had to adjust to those changes. Even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. I guess what I'm trying to say is change can often be a bad thing, but sometimes, it's a really good thing. It's necessary in life. Change is hard and it's scary, but that doesn't mean it's bad."

  
I consider everything Barbara's said, reflecting on her words over and over again. I think she's right. I think I should talk to Bruce about all of this, but that also scares me. I'm scared of how different things will be after he tells me the truth. I'm scared he won't love me anymore. I'm worried that I'll be forgotten or abandoned for his real child. The child he helped create.

  
Everything will change, but maybe Barbara's right. Change could be the most frightening thing in the world, but that doesn't mean something good can't come out of it. Maybe Bruce will love me the same after he tells me the truth. Maybe his feelings won't change for me at all. Maybe, just maybe, things will change for the better.


	22. Manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is so mediocre.

I sit in front of the fireplace, my back against the couch and my legs stretched out in front of me. I stare down at the thick, knitted socks I'm wearing, moving my foot to the beat of a song that only I can hear.

  
I know I have to confront Bruce about the phone call, but I just don't know how to go about it. It might not be a good idea to mention it at all. Barbara doesn't know Bruce like I do. She doesn't know that he has a temper, and he's not afraid to lose that temper with me. She might think it's best to be honest with him, but Babs doesn't know the whole situation. She only knows small pieces of a much larger picture. This could all lead to a very bad place for me. Bruce might get angry that I even brought the phone call back up. He might just want to forget that it ever happened.

  
I just don't know what to do.

  
I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don't even hear Bruce approach me. I jump in surprise when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

  
"I didn't mean to scare you there." He says, sitting next to me on the floor. We're sitting so close that our legs press against each other's. He puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, listening to his steady breathing.

  
"You didn't scare me." I nearly whisper. Bruce only hums in response, his hand stroking my arm.

  
"Alfred told me that Barbara visited today." He says. I open my eyes, lifting my head off his shoulder to look at his expression. His face gives nothing away. Bruce stares at me, waiting to see how I'll respond.

  
"She was worried about me. We didn't do anything. We just talked. That's all we did, I swear." I answer, my voice panicky. I remain still as Bruce's hand comes up to caress my cheek, petting me lovingly. He gives me a small smile, his eyes glazing over for half a second.

  
"I believe you, but I don't like the idea of her coming over here without an invitation. Especially when you're in bed. I'll have to call her father and let him know that from now on, Barbara needs to call before coming here. She can't continue these surprise visits. It's very rude of her." Bruce says in a hard voice. I hadn't really thought of it that way. When Barbara showed up today, I wasn't upset that she hadn't call beforehand. I was happily surprised.

  
"I think she just really wanted to see me. I thought it was nice of her to visit. She wants to be my friend." I say, in an effort to defend her. Bruce gives me this condescending look, as if I'm just too young to understand these types of things.

  
"Oh Dick, you're so naive and innocent. It's one of the things I love most about you, but it's also one of your many flaws." Bruce whispers, leaning in closer. "It might seem like Barbara wants to be your friend, but I think there's more to it then that. You're Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne, and that means you have a lot to offer people. It means you're connected to power, and a lot of people would do anything to get their hands on some of that power. Even if it means pretending to be your friend."

  
"You think...." I struggle to get the words out of my mouth. It hurts too much just to think about it. "You think Barbara's just pretending to be my friend because of you?"

  
Bruce turns so that he can face me fully, his fingers combing back my hair. The look he gives me is one of pity. Bruce looks at me like I know nothing, like I'm clueless about how the world works, and he loves it. He loves that I need him to explain these things to me.

  
"Of course she is, Dick." Bruce says kindly, his expression turning sympathetic. I look do at my lap, suddenly feeling choked up. It feels hard to breath, and I struggle to stop myself from crying. I cry all the time, at everything, and it's pathetic. I need to hold it together more often, but I'm just too sensitive. I take everything to heart.

  
I can't believe Babs doesn't actually want to be my friend. I can't believe she's just using me like everyone else I've met has tried to. I thought she wanted to be my friend. Not for selfish reasons, but just because she liked me. I guess I was wrong. I'm wrong about almost everything, and that's why I need Bruce by my side. I need him to be able to tell me when I'm wrong.

  
A finger lifts my chin so that our eyes meet, Bruce's eyes scanning my face. I sniffle and rub my eyes with the back of my hand. I let Bruce wrap his arms around me and pull me onto his lap. I nuzzle his neck, holding him around the waist as tightly as I possibly can. I don't ever want to let go of Bruce. He's the only person I have, the only person who really cares about me.

  
"I'm sorry, Dick. I know you really liked her. It's difficult for people like you and me to make friends. Most of the world just wants to take advantage of us, especially of you. You're so gorgeous, Dick, that even if you didn't have a rich guardian, people would still try to take advantage of you." He whispers into my ear, making me shiver. My grip on him tightens, and Bruce repositions me so that I'm straddling his waist. I rub my cheek against the crook of his neck, tears forming at the edge of my eyes.

  
Bruce is right. Everyone just wants to take advantage of me. No one actually wants to be my friend without having an ulterior motive. If it's not Bruce's money they're after, it's my looks. I can't trust anyone, I have no way of knowing if anyone's being genuine with me. I thought maybe Barbara was, but it turns out I was wrong. It makes me question everything she's told me. It makes me regret ever telling her about the phone call at all. Was I really so desperate for a friend that I was willing to trust the first one that came along?

  
"I'm so stupid, Bruce. I did something so, so stupid." I sob. I feel Bruce's warm hand dip under my shirt and slide up my bareback. His touch alone manages to give me goosebumps.

  
"What did you do, baby?" He asks in a concerned tone, but I can't answer him. I shake my head and lightly kiss his neck. I can't tell Bruce what I told Barbara. I just can't. He'll be so angry, and I don't want to be punished again. I know I probably deserve to be punished for what I told Babs, but I can't go through that again. It's too hard, too painful. I want to be a good boy for once. I want to be the good boy that Bruce knows I can be.

  
"I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry." I whisper, kissing my way up his neck to his strong jaw. I can hear how Bruce's breathe quickens, his hand pulling my shirt up to reveal more of my bare skin. His head falls back, eyes closed with an expression of utter bliss, as I cover his face with kisses.

  
I wouldn't usually do something like this. I'm never this forward, but I need to distract him. I need Bruce to forget everything I just said. He can't know the truth, and I will do everything in my power to make sure he doesn't.

  
I kiss his cheeks, his eyelids, his brows, and the edge of his mouth. I kiss every part of him that I can reach. It's not only because I'm trying to distract him, it's also because I love Bruce. He's the only person in the whole world who loves me for being me. He doesn't love me for the money or my looks. Bruce loves me for who I am.

  
I'm taken by surprise when Bruce's mouth is suddenly attacking mine in fiery kiss. I can barely breath as his tongue enters my mouth, his hands clawing at my bare back. It scares me how desperate, how possessive he's become in just a few short seconds. The way he's touching me, how he's kissing me, it isn't the same way Bruce usually touches me. This time, it feels like a sign of ownership.

  
I feel a hand grip the lower part of my stomach before moving down to the waistband of my pajama pants. There's a wet pair of lips at my ear, causing me to tremble under his touch.

  
"I can't wait any longer. I love you so much, Dick."

  
And he takes me there in front of the fireplace.

 

 

*********************

 

 

The next day at breakfast, Bruce announces that's he's decided on our plans for my birthday. This is another thing I don't like about my birthday. I never get to choose what we do to celebrate it. Not only is it a hard for me because of my parents, but I'm also forced to do things that I might not want to do.

  
Don't get me wrong, Bruce and I have done some really fun things on my past birthdays. Most particularly on my tenth birthday. It had definitely been the most difficult birthday, because it was the first one without my mom and dad. Bruce had asked me a few days before if there was anything special I wanted to do to celebrate. I told him no. I said that I had nothing celebrate. So Bruce took it upon himself to plan my birthday, and it ended up being a really great day.

  
He took me to the Gotham City Planetarium, where we laid back in comfy chairs while Bruce pointed out all the constellations and planets to me. It was beautiful, and it was sight that was rare in a city like Gotham. Afterwards, Bruce took me out for pizza at Gotham City's largest arcade.

  
I actually managed to forget about my parents for a while, but by the end of the night, after Bruce had tucked me into bed, the memories came flooding back. I laid in bed that night, thinking about how much my mother would have loved to look at the stars, and how much fun my dad would have had playing air hockey with me. It made me so sad to think that they'll never be able to experience those things with me. I couldn't sleep that night. I ended up sneaking into Bruce's bed later that night and cuddling with him, because I couldn't stand to be alone.

  
That was the last and only good birthday I've ever had with Bruce. After my eleventh birthday, everything changed for the worst.

  
"What are we doing?" I ask, as I cut into my ham and cheese omelet. He puts down the newspaper he had in his hand and turns his gaze on me.

  
"I'm taking the week off and we're going to the Bahamas." He says before taking a sip of his coffee. My fork falls out of my hand, making a loud clattering sound when it lands on my plate. I look up at Bruce in shock.

  
"The Bahamas? Seriously?" I ask, not sure if I heard him right. I've never been to the Bahamas before, and Bruce has never taken me on a vacation either. I'll admit that the Bahamas does sound like fun.

  
"Dick, when am I not serious?" Bruce says with a pointed look. I chew on my buttered toast, deep in thought.

  
"Can you take a whole week off of work?" I ask after I've swallowed. Bruce raises an eyebrow, looking at me like I'm an idiot. It makes me feel stupid for saying anything at all.

  
"It's my company. I can take off whenever I feel like it." He answers before picking up his newspaper again. "We'll leave the day before your birthday on the private jet. Right after lunch, and we'll return the following Monday."

  
It's then that I realize just how close my birthday is. If we're leaving for the Bahamas on Monday, that means my birthday is only four days away. I'm not surprised that I forgot about my birthday this year. I can barely keep track of the days of the week as it is. Every day I do the same thing, so each day just blends into the next. I barely have a concept of time passing anymore.

  
"It'll be nice. Just you and me, spending some quality time together. It will give us a chance to connect more." Bruce goes on, his eyes scanning the newspaper. I nod as I sip my orange juice, thinking about all that time I'll be spending with Bruce in the Bahamas. We'll be able to spend every moment together, and I don't know how I feel about that. It'll be nice to go somewhere as beautiful and relaxing as the Bahamas, but at the same time, I'm afraid of all the things Bruce will most likely do to me while we're there.

  
I scold myself for thinking so negatively about Bruce. I should just be thankful that I have a guardian who wants to spend so much time with me. Bruce is a caring person with a lot more depth then people realize, but more than that, I love him.  
I finish my meal, reminding myself of how thankful I should be.

 

 

***********************

 

 

The Sunday before we leave for the Bahamas, Bruce tells me that he has to go pick up my birthday gift. He says he ordered it weeks ago, but it just came in today. While he's out, Alfred comes to my bedroom with the house phone. Barbara's on the phone and she wants to speak with me.

  
I press my lips together, considering whether I should even take the call or not. Bruce said that Barbara only wants to be my friend because of my connections. She's trying to manipulate me, and I won't let her do that anymore.

  
After a moment of thinking about it, I close the textbook I'm reading, and take the phone from Alfred. I let out a loud breathe before putting the phone to my ear.

  
"Hello?" I ask in a low voice.

  
"Hi Dick, it's me, Barbara." She says in a perky voice. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. It's ridiculous how I didn't notice how fake she sounds before now. It's so obvious how she's just pretending to be nice to me.

  
"Yeah, I know it's you. What do you want?" I say in a bored voice. I can't believe she would try so hard to pretend to be my friend. I'd be impressed with her determination if I wasn't so hurt.

  
"Oh, well, I just wanted to see how you are, and also to say I'm sorry about coming over without being invited. Have you talked to Bruce yet about, you know, that thing?" She asks. I bite my lip, getting more livid with every word she says. What kind of person comes into someone's home, gives them cookies, and pretends to care about their problems just so that they could take advantage of you? I didn't think Barbara was that kind of person, but apparently, she is.

  
"Look, Babs, I know what you're doing, okay?" I spit out in a bitter tone. There's a moment of silence on the phone before Barbara answers.

  
"What I'm...doing? You mean, being your friend?"

  
"I know the truth, okay? Bruce explained everything to me. You don't really want to be my friend. You don't care about me at all, do you? You just want to use me because I'm the ward of Bruce Wayne. You're a liar, you've been lying the entire time I've known you." I say, my face twisted in anger. Barbara stutters on the phone, trying to form some sort of response.

  
I am so sick of people trying to take advantage of me. It really pisses me off that everyone who is close to me only ever seems to use me. My mom once told me that relationships are about give and take, but it feels like I'm always the one doing the giving, and never the taking. Bruce uses me every night when he comes home from work, and I won't let Barbara do the same. I can only handle so much.

  
"Dick, listen. I don't know why Bruce would say those things to you, but they're not true. I think you're angry at someone else, and you're just taking it out on-"

  
"Just shut up, Barbara! Don't act like you know how I feel! You have no idea how I feel! No one does. I am tired of people telling me what to do and how to feel." I interrupt her, saying the first thoughts that pop into my mind. I don't even realize what I'm saying. All I know is that I'm my own person, and I won't let Barbara control me the way Bruce does.

  
I'm about to continue with my rant when the phone is suddenly ripped out of my hand. I look up at Alfred angrily, ready to demand that he gives me the phone back, when I see his expression. Alfred looks distraught and worried. I've never seen him look so upset before.

  
I can feel the air in the room go cold before he even speaks. I know right away that something bad has happened, and I know that it's about Bruce. It has to be about Bruce. The anger I was feeling only moments ago dissipates at Alfred's words.

  
"We have to go to the hospital, now."


	23. The Eleventh Birthday, Part 1

I had set the alarm on my watch the night before, changing the mode to vibrate so as not to wake up Dick. Fifteen minutes before Dick is supposed to wake up, I make my way down to the kitchen. Alfred is there, the smell of fresh Belgian waffles overwhelming me as soon as I walk into the room. Alfred glances at me as I make my way to the fridge.

  
“Good morning, Master Bruce.” Alfred says in a pleasant voice, adding another Belgian waffle to the growing stack. Bacon sizzles and crackles on a hot pan over the stove, the scent hitting my nostrils and making my mouth water.

  
"Morning Alfred!" I answer, more cheerfully then I meant to be. Alfred stops what he's doing for a moment to give me a curious look.

  
"You seem especially perky today." He observes as I pull out a vanilla iced, rainbow sprinkled cupcake from the refrigerator. I give him a pleased look as I open the freezer and pick out a blue striped candle.

  
"Well, it is Dick's birthday today. It's an important day." I say, opening the junk drawer to take out the lighter. I light the candle and stick it into the cupcake. Alfred watches me with a soft expression as he removes the bacon from the stove.

  
"I don't remember you being this happy on his birthday last year." Alfred points out. I make sure to keep my expression serious.

  
"This year is different. From here on out, everything's going to change." I say, and leave the room before Alfred has a chance to answer. What Alfred doesn't realize, is that I had been waiting for this day since I was fifteen years old. I've been waiting for this since I first laid eyes on Dick, when I knew right away that he was meant to be mine.

  
I had barely been able to sleep the night before, I was so excited about today. If it was up to me, I would have taken Dick on his last birthday, but he wasn't ready. I had to wait until he was a little older, a little more mature. I love Dick more than I've ever loved anyone else, and that love I feel for him is so intense, that not just anyone at any age could handle it.

  
I've had to prepare Dick for this. I've spent the last two years or so gaining Dick's trust, and being a good role for model for him. All I've done these last couple of years is hold and comfort him, restraining myself from doing anything more than that. Which was hard to do, considering all the millions of times I've been tempted to do more than that. But I'm a patient man, I've told myself over and over again that I can wait. I've already waited so long for Dick, I can wait just a little bit longer.

  
I enter my bedroom quietly so as to not to wake up Dick. He fell asleep in my bed last night, slipping under the blankets in the middle of the night. Dick often does that. Sometimes it's because he has nightmares of his parents' death, and other times it's simply because he doesn't want to be alone.

  
Dick feels most loved when he's being held, and it's one of my favorite things about him. He constantly needs to be held, cuddled, or kissed on the forehead. I love it, it's just another excuse for me to touch him without it being suspicious.

  
My ward is a fragile child. Dick often feels lonely and unloved. He needs repeated reassurance and constant physical contact. He adores and loves me, and I know he wants me the same way I want him. Dick might not realize it right now, but I do, and that's all that matters. He's still so young and naive, and it's my job to teach and guide him. And what I need to teach him is that he belongs to me.

  
I crawl towards him in the bed, holding the cupcake carefully so I don't drop it. I look down at his sleeping face, smiling to myself. Dick looks so much younger, so relaxed when he's sleeping. His eyelashes are long against his dark skin, and his black hair brushes against his forehead. I run a light hand through his hair, combing my fingers through his thick locks. My perfect, good little boy becomes more beautiful as the years go on. It's a miracle, really, how gorgeous he is.

  
His eyelids flutter open, a confused expression on his face. It takes Dick a moment to focus on me, but when he does, his whole face glows with a smile. Damn, he's so fucking beautiful when he wakes up in the morning. How is it even possible for someone to look so lovely?

  
His eyes land on the cupcake and his smiles grows.

  
"Happy Birthday, Dick." I say softly. Dick sits up, his gaze not straying from the lit candle. He rubs at his eyes and let's out a loud yawn. It's one of the most precious things I've ever seen. I am so lucky to have Dick in my life. "Make a wish."

  
Dick bites his lower lip, his face serious in thought. Dick has a bad habit of biting his lip. He usually does it whenever he's deep in thought or nervous. It's all kinds of sexy.

  
After a few seconds, Dick closes his eyes and blows out the candle. I smile, pull the candle out, and give the cupcake to Dick.

  
"Thank you, Bruce. You didn't have to." Dick says before taking a large bite. I smile when the icing sticks to his face, watching as Dick wipes it off with his fingers. He begins to suck the icing right off his fingers, and it's absolutely fascinating to watch. The way he closes his eyes when he eats the icing, the way his fingers shine with saliva. It's all so tempting, it's almost like Dick is purposely trying to seduce me. I have to deliberately stop myself from taking his hand in mine, and sucking on those fingers myself.

  
"Is it good?" I ask, my voice sounding strange. Dick finishes the cupcake with a smile and a nod. I don't even try to form a response, too distracted by his delicate features and his small, lean body. More than anything else, I want to lay Dick bare on this bed and make desperate, passionate love to him. I honestly don't know I've survived the past couple of years without touching Dick the way I want to. No, the way I need to.

  
I lead Dick down the stairs to the dining room table, where Alfred has Belgian waffles, bacon, and strawberries waiting for us. Dick jumps into his chair and begins to dig into his waffle.

  
"What are we doing today?" He asks between bites.

  
"It's a surprise." I lean in closer and put my hand on top of Dick's. "But I promise, you'll love it."

  
Our eyes meet, Dick looking surprised by how serious I am. Then he smiles, causing my heart to melt. I take my hand back and we go back to eating our meal, and to no one's surprise, Dick only gets halfway through his food before announcing that he's full. I would usually insist that Dick finishes his food, but he did have that large cupcake, so I'm willing to cut him some slack today.

  
Dick sits with me until I've finished my meal, his expression slowly turning from one of happy content to a bleak somberness. It's how I know that he's thinking about his parents and how he wishes they were here. I reach for his hand again, running my finger down his soft palm. Dick glances up at me and tries to smile, but it's not convincing. I know him better than that. I know when he's really happy and when he's just pretending to be.

  
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask in a quiet voice. Dick's breathe becomes heavier, his gaze on the table.

  
"I miss them, Bruce. I miss them all the time." He says, his voice on the verge of breaking. Large tears gather in his eyes like Bambi's, and I can't stop myself from getting out of my seat and kneeling down in front of him. I reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, wishing that there was something I could do or say to make Dick feel better. But there isn't. I can't even tell him that it will get easier, because that would be a lie. So instead of saying anything at all, I wrap my arms around him in a hug that lasts a long time.

 

 

*************************

 

 

I feel the cool air against my skin, breathing in and out. I jog past the people and trees, paying them no attention. I'm too busy thinking about tonight, and how in just a few hours from now, I'll finally have Dick the way I've always wanted him. The way it was destined to be.

  
I'm so distracted with thinking of all the things I plan to do to Dick, that I'm actually taken off guard when a familiar voice shouts out, "To your right!"

  
Selina goes breezing past me so fast that all I can see is her backside. She looks over her shoulder to give me a wink.

  
"You're getting slow, old man." She says. I snort, picking up the pace so that we're running side by side, like we should be.

  
"I didn't know twenty two classified as old." I answer, Selina giving me a half smile in response. We turn left at the trail, making our way back around to the entrance of the park.

  
"We're parents now, Bruce. That makes us old." She says, checking her watch for the time. "Speaking of which, I gotta get home. Helena should be waking up from her nap soon. I'd prefer her not waking to the nanny."

  
I nod as we jog out of the park and down the street to our private gym. The gym is actually an old warehouse that I bought, and had refurnished into a gym for me and Selina. As far as the public is concerned, it's simply an elite gym that you can only join by special invitation.

  
The two of us have always been very active people, but we both can't stand people in general. We wanted to be able to workout daily without anyone annoying us, so it only made sense to own our own gym.

  
I open the front door and let Selina walk in first. I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I follow her pass the boxing ring and to the locker rooms. The gym is filled with everything someone might need when working out, from blue matts to the most complicated exercise machines. Selina and I like to stay physically fit in all senses of the word.

  
I watch her walk, admiring her curvy body and fine ass. It's incredible, really, how resilient her body is. She was pregnant just six months ago, and yet she's already gotten her pre-pregnancy body back. Even her rock hard abs have returned. It came as a real surprise to me to see Selina get back into shape so quickly, but it was a welcoming surprise. It shows how determined of a person she really is.

  
Once in the locker rooms, Selina stops at the showers to pull off her tight sweat pants. I watch with hungry eyes as her top, thong, and sports bra join the pile. She leans into the open shower to turn the water on. My mouth practically salivates at the sight of her. Selina might not get the same reaction out of me that Dick does, but she comes pretty damn close. And for now, she'll have to do.

  
"Are you going to join me, Mr. Malone?" Selina says in a playful tone, as she steps under the hot water. The room slowly becomes foggy with steam as Selina soaps down her body. She turns to me so that I can see everything, flashing me a suggestive smile. I take my time walking towards her, stripping myself of my clothes, dark sunglasses, and baseball cap as I do so. My eyes don't leave hers for a second.

  
I step under the water, looking down at her with a predatory gaze. Selina purrs as she rubs a hand against my chest, her green eyes lit up with excitement.

  
"Whatever you want, Mrs. Malone." I answer, and then I lean down to catch her mouth in lustful kiss.

 

 

*******************

 

 

As soon as I close the front door, I hear the familiar running of Dick. I turn and he's right there in front of me, a smile on his face and bouncing on his feet. He looks so eager, so excited, it's mesmerizing. Everything about Dick is so handsome and magnificent. He makes any thought I might have about Selina disappear. I want him so badly that it literally hurts my heart not to be able to love him the way I wish I could. But all of that will change by tonight. I will finally get everything I've always wanted, tonight.

  
"So where are we going?" He asks, grabbing my upper arm gently. I smile at his touch, putting down my briefcase and placing my hand over his. His skin is always so warm and soft.

  
"You'll see when we get there. Have you finished all your schoolwork for the day?" I ask, as Alfred joins us. Reluctantly, I remove Dick's hand from my arm to take off my jacket and give it to Alfred. Dick nods in response.

  
"All done. I got a 100 on my spelling test." Dick says, his chest swelling with pride. I know what he wants. Dick wants me to be proud of him and to tell him how good of a boy he is. It pleases me how eager he is to always get my approval.

  
"I didn't expect any less from you. Now go get your jacket and shoes on. It'll only take me a moment to change. We're on a schedule." I answer, keeping my face empty of emotion. It's never a good idea to give Dick exactly what he wants, especially when it comes to my approval. If you give it to him once, he'll stop striving for it after a while. It's always good to make him long for more.

  
Dick doesn't hesitate for even a moment before running down the hall to get ready to leave. His obedience is always such a huge turn on for me. I can't wait until I get to see that obedience in the bed.

  
I go up to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. It's important to dress down when I go out in public and don't want to be recognized. People never expect Bruce Wayne and his ward to wear casual clothing. I don't expect to run into any big crowds, but it's always good to be prepared. I'm a big fan of being prepared for anything.

  
I change into a long sleeves shirt, blue jeans, and my black Nike sneakers. Dick's in a similar outfit already. I told Alfred yesterday that Dick had to be comfortable and casual today.

  
I have Alfred bring the black Ferrari around to the front of the manor, and I meet Dick there. I open the passenger door for him with a smile, Dick meeting my gaze and grinning. He slips into the seat, and I slam the car door closed behind him. I smile to myself as I walk around the front of the car and get into the driver's seat.

  
The drive is a quiet one, Dick spending the time looking out the window, no doubt trying to figure out where we're headed. At every light we stop at, I glance over at him, my body aching to touch him. I'm able to restrain myself, but my hands fist the steering wheel so tightly, that my fingers end up turning as white as a sheet of paper.

  
It's a relief when we finally reach our location, Dick looking around curiously at the big building. The parking lot is practically deserted, only one other car parked there. I lead Dick to the large front doors of the building, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  
"Uh, Bruce, where are we?" He asks, sounding weary. I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as we walk into a dimly lit, carpeted room. To the right is a concession stand with glass cases of candy, and a popcorn machine. Realization dawns on Dick's face as a man in a suit steps out from behind the concessions.

  
"Mr. Wayne, it's an honor to have you here." The man says, giving me a large grin. I give him a small smile in return.

  
"Thank you, Mr. Davis. This is my ward, Dick Grayson." I say, glancing down at Dick. Mr. Davis beams at him, Dick smiling in return.

  
"You must be the birthday boy. I hear you're a Robin Hood fan." The man says, and Dick's eyes light up. He looks up at me with a look of disbelief, a silent question on his face. I nod in response, knowing exactly what he's thinking. Dick's grin is so wide that his face can barely contain it.

  
"He's a huge Robin Hood fan, but he's never had the chance to see any of the movies. He's read the book several times, though." I explain to the owner of the private movie theater. Mr. Davis raises an impressed brow at Dick.

  
"Well then, you're in for a special treat." The owner says with a knowing look.

  
We follow Mr. Davis into a private theater filled with black, leathered seats that allow you to lay back and put your feet up. I let Dick choose our seats, making ourselves comfortable in our love seat. Dick is bouncing in his seat with excitement.

  
"This is so cool, Bruce! I've always wanted to see a Robin Hood movie!" He says. Mr. Davis leaves the room to get us our buttered popcorn, soda, and candy. We're getting the full movie theater experience, and that's something that Dick's never done before. He's never even seen a movie on the big screen. When you live in a circus, you don't get many chances to go the movies.

  
"I know you have. You've told me dozens of times." I say. That's when I realize that the arm rest between us lifts so it doesn't have to be in the way. Which is a good thing, because that means Dick can snuggle up to me if he wants to.

  
"I've seen people go to the movies on TV and stuff, but I never actually thought I'd go to one. I feel like this is dream, and any moment now I'm going to wake up." Dick says, and I can't help but chuckle. Only Dick would get this excited about going to a movie theater. I knew that when I came up with this idea that it didn't have to be a private showing to make Dick happy, but that's how I wanted it. I didn't want to have to sit with a bunch of strangers, and this way I can hold Dick close to me in the dark without anyone thinking badly of us.

  
I also know that we could have done this at our home movie theater, but it wouldn't have been the same. Besides, Dick almost never gets to leave the manor. He deserves this. It is his birthday, after all. It just seemed more special this way.   
Mr. Davis comes back into the room with a tray filled with an extra large bucket of popcorn, several bags of candy, and two large sodas. Dick's eyes go wide with surprise when he sees it.

  
"Awesome." He whispers as Mr. Davis hands the tray to me. I almost never let Dick eat junk food, so this is a real treat for him. It's not everyday I let Dick eat gummy worms and popcorn that's drowning in butter and salt.

  
I put the sodas in our cup holders, and I place the popcorn and candy between the two of us. Mr. Davis watches us with a pleased smile before leaving, telling us to enjoy the double feature. Dick looks up at me, his mouth already full with popcorn.  
"Double feature?" He struggles to say with all the food in his mouth.

  
"Don't talk with your mouth full. You know better then that." I say with a disapproving look. Dick goes red with shame, swallowing quickly. I can never handle it when Dick blushes. Just watching all that blood rush to his face does something to me, every single damn time. It makes every bone in my body want to fuck him hard and fast.

  
"Sorry." Dick mumbles.

  
"Just don't do it again." I say, my voice hard before lightening my tone. "And yes, it's a double feature. Disney's animated Robin Hood from 1973, and the most recent rendition of Robin Hood, starring Gotham City's Basil Karlo."

  
"Basil Karlo's from Gotham?" Dick asks. Basil Karlo is a famous actor who started his career making horror films. His career didn't really kick off until he was casted as Robin Hood in the 2012 film. Now he's one of the country's most popular actors, and one of the faces of Gotham City. The other face of Gotham being myself, of course.

  
These are all things I expect Dick to know nothing about, considering I try my hardest to keep him unaware of the outside world. It's a technique I use to make him more dependent on me. The way fate intended it to always be.

  
"Yes, now hush. The movie's starting." I whisper, putting my arm around Dick as the lights dim, and the movie begins. As predicted, Dick takes my arm and puts it around him, curling up in a ball against my side. I pull him closer, Dick's head leaning against my chest.

  
My hand curls around his upper thigh, my thumb stroking the skin there. Every part of my being screams to touch more of him, to hold Dick tighter, but I tell myself to wait. I have the rest of my life to love him the way I always wanted to, the way I was always meant to love him.

  
The opening credits begin to play, but I can't even concentrate on the movie. All I can think about is later tonight, and about all of the things I plan to do to him. I plan to make Dick moan, whimper, to cry and beg for me. I know that at first, he might be taken back and surprised, but he'll grow to like it, even crave it. With time, Dick will realize that he's meant to be with me, not as ward and warden, but as lovers. Dick and I belong together, in every sense of the word, and I can't wait until tonight to make that a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Not really sure how I feel about this chapter. Please let me know in the comments what you guys thought of it. I'm always so curious to know your thoughts on this fic. I've decided that all the flashbacks will be in Bruce's POV. Also, I decided to go with Helena from Earth 2. I'm not sure how many people picked up on that, since people rarely seem talk about her.


	24. The Eleventh Birthday, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is definitely the hardest chapter I have written for this story so far. Honestly, I'm not eve sure if it's that good, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Also, if any of you want to talk to me, you can find me at thatcomicgirl52.tumblr.com. I'd love to talk to all of you.

Dick spends the whole ride home talking about the movies. What each film did right, what each film did wrong, which one was more entertaining, funnier, had more action. He never stops talking for a minute. I don't even have to respond, I just keep nodding my head to whatever he's saying. That's not to say I'm not listening, because I always try to listen to whatever Dick says. It's that I don't need to say anything. I’m just glad to see that going to the private movie theater made Dick so happy. He deserves to be happy, and that's why he's with me.

  
I ask Dick if he wants to stop somewhere for dinner, but as predicted, he's too full on popcorn and candy. I'm more than happy to hear this, because it means we could get to the main event of the night that much sooner.

  
When I pull up to the front of the manor, Dick skips to the front door and knocks on it joyfully. I'm glad that he's having such a fun birthday. Dick doesn't like his birthdays all that much because his parents aren't here to spend it with him. So if I can make the day just a little bit better for him, well, that means the world to me. I hate seeing Dick upset.

  
Alfred answers the door and let's us in, asking us how our evening was. Dick is quick to answer him, telling Alfred every detail of the movie theater and the featured films. Alfred watches him with an amused expression and a slight smile.

  
"But I still like the book better." Dick proclaims at the end of his spiel, turning to me as I take off my jacket. I put my hand out for Dick's and then give them to Alfred to put away.

  
"One thing to always remember Dick; the book is always better than the movie. That's why you should never judge a book based on its movie." I tell Dick with a knowing look. Dick presses his lips together with a thoughtful look. I clap my hands together with a smile. "So, are you ready for your birthday gift?"

  
Dick's face brightens at these words, as if he's forgotten about birthday presents entirely. The sweet boy probably assumed the movie theater outing was his gift. That's another great thing about Dick. He's always so grateful for whatever you give him. He doesn't need anything expensive or fancy to be happy. Dick is pleased with the simplest of things. I think it's because he grew up in a circus, and his family couldn't afford much. It made him more thankful for the things he did get.

  
"What'd you get me, what'd you get me, what'd you get me?" He chants as he follows me down the hall to my home office. I close the door behind him as Dick hums and bounces on his heels. A rectangular shaped present wrapped in the colors green, yellow, and red sits on the love seat, waiting patiently for Dick to open it. Dick's grin widens when he sees it, jumping on the small couch as he grabs it. I sit next to him, leaving just a sliver of space between the two of us.

  
He opens the gift in one quick motion, revealing a stack of beautifully designed books. Dick's eyes widen with surprise as he goes through the pile, studying each cover intensely. Each book has a leathered hard cover, the title painted in gold or silver. Every cover shows off a gorgeous illustration, the edges of the pages tinted gold. They look like something out of an old, ancient library, but cleaner. Dick is silent as he flips through the pages, revealing more detailed drawings.

  
It's a set of six of Dick's favorite stories from when he was younger. Stories that his mother used to read to him in bed. Dick had told me about those nights too many times to count. He's told me about how Robin Hood stole from the rich to give to the poor, about how Alice fell down the hole that led to Wonderland, and about how Peter Pan took down the notorious pirate, Captain Hook.

  
Dick adores those stories, but he hasn't had the opportunity to read them since that last night at Haly's Circus. Now, he can read these beautiful stories whenever he wants.

  
"Bruce," Dick starts, choking up on his words. I can see his eyes begin to shine with tears. "Reading these stories...my mom."

  
Dick's voice breaks, swallowing loudly. He holds the books in tight fists, as if he's angry. I gently taking the novels out of his hands. I only half expected this reaction. I thought seeing these stories might make him happy, glad to have that part of his childhood back. But Dick is far from happy right now. He's devastated.

  
"Hey," I say in a soothing voice, my hand lifting his chin so that I can look into his beautiful, clear blue eyes. Dick's expression is one of anxiety and woe. "It's okay if you don't like them. I can return them, or save them until you're ready to read them again. It's okay if it's too soon to read these stories again. I understand, this is hard for you. I know you feel like it might be wrong to read these books without your mother, but I think it's what she would have wanted for you. She would want you to be happy and enjoy the things you love."

  
Dick's lower lip wobbles, his gaze not straying from mine. Without warning, he pounces on me, jumping onto my lap and holding me tightly around my waist. Dick hides his face in my shirt as I embrace him back, running a calming hand through his hair.

  
"I can't do it, Bruce. Not today." He mumbles. I nod and have to stop myself from smiling. Part of me hoped for this sort of reaction out of Dick. Watching a movie is one thing, but to be confronted with the novels themselves? That's different. By forcing him to deal with these memories head on, I've caused Dick to come running to me for comfort. Me, his guardian and only friend. I'm the only person he needs in this world. I can take care of him when he's sad, I can provide anything he might need, and I can love Dick the way his parents never could.

  
I realized all these things almost ten years ago, but Dick hadn't. I need to teach him, through experiences like these, that he needs me. I need to teach him that he cannot be without me, just as I can't be without him.

  
"Alright. I'll put them away for you, and one day, when you're ready, you can read them. You'll finally be able to enjoy them again." I say, and I feel Dick nod against my chest.

  
I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine. The way Dick curls up against me, the way he sits in my lap is absolutely perfect. I can feel myself grow hard at the feel of his body, my grip in his hair tightening. I can't wait any longer. I've waited long enough as it is. I need to have Dick, I need to swallow him whole. I need to take over his mind, heart, body, and soul.

  
"I have one more present for you, Dick." I whisper, pressing my nose against the top of his head and inhaling his scent. He smells delicious, good enough to eat. I cannot wait to devour him.

  
"What is it?" Dick asks in a timid voice, lifting his face to look at me. I gaze down at his naive, innocent face, and I almost growl. God dammit, this can't wait any longer!

  
"It's in my bedroom." I say in a low voice, pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. I'm tempted to linger there, kiss every other part of his face, but I don't. I can do that later. "Let me show it to you."

  
Dick slowly slips off my lap, allowing me to stand. He puts his hand out for me to take, watching me shyly. I look down at his small, childlike hand for only a moment before taking it. Dick gives me small, relieved smile when I do. As if he had doubts that I would want to hold his hand.

  
Silently, I lead Dick out of my office and down the hall to the stairs. I can't make conversation right now. I'm too focused on what's coming next, on how I'm going to approach this. Dick will be confused and maybe a little scared. I'll have to make sure to comfort him and show him that everything is alright. We turn the corner to my bedroom, and bump straight into Alfred.

  
"Alfred!" I exclaim, having forgotten that he was here at all. I was so busy thinking about Dick, that I forgot Alfred even existed. I forgot anyone existed but Dick.

  
Alfred's eyes go back and forth from me to Dick, assessing the situation. The confusion and speculation is clear on his face as he looks at Dick's solemn expression.

  
"Is everything alright, Sir?" Alfred asks politely, his eyes going back to mine. I keep my face clean of emotion, as blank as a white canvas.

  
"Everything's fine. Dick's having a bit of a hard time. Old memories and such. You know how it is." I explain, glancing down at Dick. I feel Dick's grip on my hand tighten, chewing his bottom lip as he looks at me with those big, round eyes.

  
"Of course. I should have known." Alfred says in a serious tone, giving Dick a pitying look. "I'll leave you to it then, shall I?"

  
"Yes," I answer quickly, "Please do not disturb us for the rest of the night. No matter the reason. Thank you, Alfred."

  
Alfred nods with a curious look, but knows better than to question me. It's none of Alfred's business what I plan to do with Dick tonight, and I don't care what his opinion of it may be. What's between me and Dick is special, it's something that most people aren't lucky enough to find, and I don't need to be judged for that. Alfred might think badly of me after tonight, but he won't do anything about it. He loves and cares for me far too much to ever go against me.

  
Dick sniffles loudly, and I look down at him with soft eyes. I give him an assuring smile, resuming the walk to my bedroom. I open the door for him, letting Dick walk in first. I can feel my whole body begin to buzz with excitement, my heart feels like it's beating in my ears.

  
Dick looks around the bedroom with a questioning look, most likely wondering where this other present is hiding.

  
"I thought you said there's another gift in here." He says slowly, a baffled look on his face. I take a deep breathe, trying to calm my quickly beating heart.

  
"Sit down on the bed, Dick." I command in a deep voice. Dick turns to me in surprise, not used to hearing me talk in such demanding way. Up to this point, I haven't been one to demand things of Dick. Usually, I just request things from him and he does them without question. But I have a feeling I'm going to be demanding things from Dick a lot more often now.

  
He sits on the edge of the bed without protest, watching me with nervous eyes. I work to soften my features, smile at him even. I have to make Dick feel at ease again, I have to show him that he's safe with me. I slowly sit down next to him, closer than I probably should.

  
"I love you, Dick." I say quietly, my eyes boarding down at him. Dick smiles briefly at these words, and I know that it helps to relax him. "I want to show you how much I love you."

  
"What do you mean?" Dick says, his forehead scrunching up in confusion. I decide not to answer him, but instead lift my hand to brush back some of the hair from his forehead. His skin is warm under my fingers, and it makes me want him even more.

  
My hand goes from his forehead to his cheek, cupping his face gently. Dick watches me with a bewildered look, leaning into my touch. Fortunately, me touching me his face isn't completely unusual. Dick loves it when I hold his face.

  
Ever so slowly, so as not to frighten him away, I move closer. Dick is silent, more so than I've ever seen him, but he's nervous. I can feel him vibrate with nerves. I lean closer and press my forehead against his. Our eyes meet, and Dick's pupils are blown wide, licking his lips anxiously. I study his pink, thin little lips, so tempted to kiss him. Just like I have been a billion times before this.

  
"Bruce?" Dick whispers in a shaky voice. He hasn't tried to push me away yet, but that might change. I have to be prepared for the fact that Dick might not want to do this, but it's not up to him. He doesn't know what I know.

  
Without wasting another moment, I grab Dick's face and press my lip against his. The first kiss is just how I've always imagined it to be. His lips are soft and warm, and the kiss is chaste. It barely feels like a kiss, not a real one at least. And yet, it's enough to make my cock harder.

  
The kiss doesn't last more than a couple of seconds before I pull away, opening my eyes to see Dick's reaction. He's frozen in his spot, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pulled together. He may have not responded, but he did close his eyes. That's something.

  
It feels like a much longer time than it actually is before Dick opens his eyes, and it's clear that he's thinking hard about what just happened. It's obvious that he's trying to process the kiss, that he might not even be sure if it was real.

  
"What was...I don't think-"

  
I force my mouth back onto his, interrupting Dick mid sentence. This time, I open my mouth and lick his lips, barely feeling Dick pushing at my shoulders. He tries to turn his face away, but I grab his chin, keeping him in place. I probably grab a little too roughly because I do hear Dick whimper in pain, but it's necessary. I can't have Dick trying to get away from me. I can't have him trying to deny me what's mine.

  
I pull on his jaw, forcing him to open his mouth for me. I moan as my tongue finally enters his mouth, my hand gripping his face tighter. I can feel Dick continue to try to push me away, but his efforts are a lost cause. I press my body up against his, slowly leaning over him and forcing Dick to lay back on the bed.

  
I cover his body with mine, my hands going from his face to his wrists. I stretch out Dick's arms to their full length, massaging my thumbs against the tender flesh of his wrists. I lick every part of the inside of his mouth and suck on his tongue.

  
Kissing Dick is everything I hoped it would be. I've kissed dozens and dozens of people, but it's never felt like this before. Kissing Dick makes it hard to think about anything else. It's like the whole world has melted away, and all that's left is this perfect boy. I can kiss him forever. I can stay in this dreamlike state for the rest of my life.

  
Dick wiggles and struggles beneath me. It's clear to me that he isn't okay with this, but he just doesn't understand. This whole experience is new to him, foreign, so I never expected him to accept it right away.

  
I have to force myself to pull my lips away from his, breathing heavily against Dick's mouth. I open my eyes to meet his. His eyes are watery with tears, a hurt and scared expression on his face. He continues to try to get away from me, his lower body twisting left to right.

  
"Bruce, please stop. I don't want this." Dick begins sobs, more tears gathering in his eyes. It hurts my heart to see him this way. Dick looks so confused, so lost.

  
"It's okay, it's okay." I say in a soothing voice, trying to calm and relax Dick. He hiccups as he tries to stop crying. I want to hold his face, but I'm afraid Dick will try to get away if I let go of his wrists. "I'm not going to hurt you. I love you, Dick. Let me love you."

  
"But I...but I...but I," Dick stutters off. I shush him, giving him a light kiss on the lips. Dick is unresponsive as I begin to press my groin against his. This causes the crying to begin again, Dick shutting his eyes tightly.

  
"Relax. Try to enjoy it. It'll be better if you try to enjoy it." I tell him, barely able to concentrate on my words. I rub my body against his much smaller one, incapable of holding back a deep groan. I can't believe this is really happening. It's what I've been dreaming about for years, and now it's my reality. It's a fucking beautiful reality.

  
I force my mouth back onto Dick's, probing his mouth with my tongue. I know I'm being too forceful and aggressive, but I don't care. All I care is about being in Dick, thrusting into him and loving him more than I've ever loved anyone else.

  
I move Dick's hands so they're above his head, shifting both wrists to one hand so as to use the other for more productive matters. I pull away for a moment to take my shirt off. Dick watches me with wide eyes. I can see how his cheeks are damp with tears. I pull on Dick's shirt, forcing him to sit up so that I can slide his own shirt off.

  
I let go of him for only half a second, but it's enough time for Dick to try and make a run for it. He rolls onto his stomach, scrambling off the bed towards the bedroom door. I sigh loudly, running a hand over my face. Dick struggles with the doorknob as he yells for Alfred, panicking because the door's locked. He's never been locked in here, at least, not to his knowledge he hasn't.

  
His calling for Alfred is futile. Alfred won't come. I gave him exact orders, and Alfred always follows orders.

  
I approach him quickly, grabbing him by his waist and throwing him back onto the bed as if he weighs nothing. I'm quick to roll on top of him to keep Dick in place, grinding down hard. It gets him to shut up, at least. Dick gasps in surprise, his eyes widening in shock. I snicker as my hands run up and down his bare chest, leaning down to give him a searing, painful kiss.

  
When I pull away to catch my breathe, Dick turns his head away, exposing his neck to me. I immediately start licking and sucking at the skin there, making sure to leave several hickeys. I want Dick to look in the mirror tomorrow, and remember who it is who owns him. I want him to always remember who he belongs to.

  
My hands quickly make their way down Dick's soft stomach to the waistband of his jeans. I straddle his thighs, and press my forearm against his chest so he can't get up. I waste no time undoing the button and zipper, impatiently pushing his jeans off.

  
"Stop it! Bruce, stop! Please!" He begs, his words not even registering. I'm too distracted to hear him. I can't think about anything but getting Dick naked and making love to him.

  
My mouth begins to water at the sight of Dick beneath me in nothing but a small pair of black briefs. I take a minute to simply look at him, making sure to fuse this moment into my memory forever. I don't ever want to forget how beautiful Dick looks naked.

  
I don't even remember taking his briefs off. All I know is that one moment Dick's most intimate body parts are covered, and in the next, everything is out for display. I can't even breathe when I see his small, limp dick hanging between his legs. It's not even three inches long, which is nothing compared to my eight inch cock. I know it will grow a little more once Dick goes through puberty, but even when I was that age, I was still a little larger than that. I have a feeling that Dick's is going to be small one when he grows up, and I'm most definitely going to enjoy that.

  
Mesmerized, I wrap my hands around the little penis, earning a delicious moan from Dick. I glance up at him with a smirk, taking in his fluttering eyelids and opened mouth. I can see how conflicted he is, not sure if he should enjoy it or not. His hands grip the sheets in tight fists, silent tears run down his cheeks, but I can tell that on some level, he likes having my hand wrapped around his dick.

  
I begin to twist and pump his pathetic excuse for a cock, causing Dick to let out breathy moans and mewls. He slowly begins to harden in my hands, a smiling growing on my face as he does. I knew that he would enjoy this. Dick just has to let go and let me take control. I know exactly what it is he needs.

  
"Feels good, right? See what happens when you listen to me? Good things come out of it." I say lightly as Dick purrs like a kitten. My jeans grow tighter on me as Dick writhers beneath me, and I feel an urgent desire to rip off the rest of my clothes and fuck him hard. But no, not right now. This moment is about Dick and making him feel good. We can get to that other stuff later.

  
"You like it, don't you?" I ask, my hand beginning to pump faster. I like looking at Dick when he's like this. It's like looking at an angel.

  
Not a moment later, cum begins spurting out of Dick's cock, getting all over my hands and his stomach. Dick gasps, looking down at the sticky liquid in horror. As if he didn't even know his body was capable of something like that. I chuckle at his expression, bringing my hand to my mouth to lick his cum off my fingers.

  
Oh my god, his cum tastes amazing. It is for sure the most savory, most delectable thing I have ever tasted. I suck and lick the rest of the cum off of my hands, and then his stomach. I don't stop until the skin shines with my saliva.

  
A strong desire for more suddenly rushes through my body, invading my every thought. I cannot wait any longer to have Dick. I've waited too long as it is. Instead of ridding myself completely of my jeans and boxers, I undo the zipper and push both garments down to my lower thighs. I don't even have the patience anymore to get completely naked.

  
Without hesitation, I press my body down flat against Dick's, his breathe quickening as he begins to sob and beg again.

  
"No, no, no, no, no. Please, Bruce, please, please, please, please..." He says over and over again, but I can't waste any more time comforting him. I need this, and Dick's going to give it to me, whether he likes it or not. Besides, he'll come around to liking it eventually. The first time is always the hardest. Once you get passed that, it's all smooth sailing from there.

  
I line my cock up against his hole, holding his face tightly and crushing his mouth with my own. I've never been so hard in my life. It's painful, how turned on I am right now.

  
I know I should prepare him more. Open him up with my fingers, get Dick used to the feeling of having something up his ass, but I can't tonight. I have run out of patience, so Dick is just going to have to suck it up.

  
Dick whines as I nip playfully at his lips. His eyes are closed, and I refuse to make love to Dick without him looking at me. This isn't just about me, it's about Dick too. It's about the two of us being together and expressing our love for one another. Tonight is about celebrating what is special about our relationship, and I can't do that on my own. I need Dick to be in the moment with me.

  
"Dick, look at me. I need you to look at me." I whisper against his lips. Dick breaths irregularly and his lips press together. I stroke his cheek lovingly. "Come on baby, do it for me. You'll make me so happy if you open your eyes. I know you can be a good boy. Be a good boy for me."

  
Dick lets out a deep breathe before opening his eyes. It hurts me to see the fear in those beautiful eyes. He looks so terrified, confused, betrayed. I don't want him to feel this way. I didn't mean for Dick to feel this way. I love him, and I want him to know how much I love him. I don't want Dick to be scared of me. I would never want that. I just want Dick every day for the rest of my life. I want him with me forever, I want him to be mine always. I can't imagine my life without Dick.

  
"Aw baby, I love you. Don't be frightened. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm giving you your birthday gift." I whisper, my voice sweet as I wipe the tears away from his face. Dick shakes his head, whimpering quietly.

  
"I don't want this gift. You're ruining my birthday." Dick answers, his voice breaking. I shut my eyes at his words, entertaining the idea that maybe Dick is right. Maybe I am ruining his birthday.

  
I open my eyes again and shake the thought from my head. I know what I'm doing and I know what's best for Dick. I am what is best for Dick, and me showing him how much I love him is what's best for him. I tell that small voice in my head that says otherwise to be quiet. I know what I'm doing, and I know that what I am doing is right.

  
"You have to understand, Dick. I love you." I whisper in response, and without wasting another moment, I thrust in hard and deep.

  
Oh.

  
My.

  
God.

  
I let out the deepest, most sensual moan I have ever heard. I can't even begin to comprehend what Dick is going through, because I'm too consumed in the feeling of being inside of him. He's so tight. Tighter than anyone else I've ever been in, and I've been in a lot of people. I can feel Dick's walls tighten around me, my hips pressed against his ass. All I can do is lay there and feel Dick all around me.

  
My eyes roll to the back of my head. My vision explodes with not stars, but galaxies. Galaxies that are clusters of colorful, twinkling lights like it's Christmas. Somewhere off in the distance, I can hear a piercing scream that sounds like a siren. It's irritating and ruining the moment for me, so I decide to ignore it.

  
Instead, I pull out of Dick almost entirely before pushing back in. My mind goes blank, incapable of thoughts as I begin to pump in and out of Dick at a faster pace. I can't even see his face, my brain too focused on making love to him. I'm too focused on finding that release, that pleasure to even understand what's happening around me.

  
I'm not sure how long I lay there thrusting into Dick. All I know is that this is far better than I had ever imagined. I've dreamed of this moment so many times, but even my best dreams can't compare to the real thing.

  
It ends all too soon. I groan loudly as I come in Dick, finally coming back to the here and now. I blink down at Dick, barely recognizing the crying, pained boy beneath me. That's when I realize that siren I heard wasn't a siren at all, but Dick's screams.

  
He looks so unlike my Dick. I've seen Dick sad before, but this is something different entirely. He doesn't just look sad, he looks like his heart has broken. Dick looks like he's feeling an insurmountable amount of pain. How could Dick possibly look so destroyed after I made such beautiful love to him?

  
I pull my softening cock out of him, my cum spilling out of his hole. I feel something much warmer against my legs, and look down to see ribbons of blood dribble down Dick's legs. Shit, I didn't mean to make him bleed. I probably should have prepared him better. Hopefully, I remember to next time.

  
Dick's still crying and whimpering, and I hate the fact that I have caused him to be that way. No, his reaction is not my fault! I told Dick to relax, to try and enjoy it, and he didn't do that. If he had done that, he would have found the whole thing just as pleasurable as I had. It's Dick's fault, not mine.

  
I lean down and kiss his tears away, shushing him gently. Dick gasps for air, trying to calm himself down. I roll off of him, pulling off my jeans and boxers completely. I press my front against Dick's side, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him towards me so that Dick's head rests against my chest. I run my hands lightly through his thick hair.

  
"It's alright, baby, you're alright. That wasn't so bad, was it?" I whisper into the darkness, Dick's loud sniffling and quiet crying filling the room. I use one hand to cover us with the blankets as Dick puts an arm around my waist, holding me tightly. Even after I've put his body through so much pain, Dick still loves me. "You were so good, such a good sweet boy for me. I'm so proud of you."

  
I run a hand down his soft arm, and tip his chin up so that I can see his face better. Dick's eyes are red and his face is blotchy. He still looks beautiful to me. I don't like the way Dick's looking at me though. He looks as if he's staring into the eyes of a monster. It's almost like he doesn't even recognize me.

  
"W-why?" Dick stutters. Instead of answering right away, I smile and lean down to give him a kiss on the lips. I love kissing Dick, and I love that I can kiss him whenever I want now. It's one of my new favorite things. I poke his lips with my tongue, forcing Dick to allow me access to the inside of his mouth. My tongue massages his, and I can feel myself harden again.

  
I pull away before things can go any further. I don't plan on going for a round two. Not tonight I don't. Someone's first time can sometimes be exceptionally exhausting, and I don't want to tire Dick out more than I already have tonight. We have the rest of our lives to have sex. A million opportunities. Tonight was just the beginning.

  
"Because I love you. More so than I've ever loved anyone else." I answer, holding Dick closer to me and resting my head back against the pillows. I meant what I said, every word of it. There is no one I love more than Dick. Not Selina, not Helena, not Alfred. I love all three of them, but not as much as I love Dick.

  
Dick is like no one else.

  
I close my eyes, smiling to myself. The room slowly quiets down, Dick no longer crying. I fall asleep not five minutes later, dreaming of the wonderful life Dick and I will live together.


	25. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Bruce's accident actually happened to me.

I follow Alfred quickly down the hallway, the white walls racing beside me. I can hear the sounds of monitors and chatter somewhere off in the distance. I can barely breath because of how worried I am. For all I know Bruce could be…

  
No, I'm not going to think that way. I can't even imagine that. Bruce has to be okay, he just has to be. If something were to happen to Bruce, what would happen to me? Where would I go? I can't survive without him. I don't think I would know how. Bruce is my everything. If Bruce were to be no more, my whole world would cease to exist.

  
We don't know exactly what happened. All Alfred knows is that Gotham City Hospital called, telling us to come down immediately because Bruce was in an accident. No other information was given to us, which if you ask me, is pretty inconsiderate. Of course, Alfred could know what happened and is just keeping it from me. It wouldn't be the first time he and Bruce did something like that.

  
We stop at the front desk in the lobby. A young, bored looking nurse in pink scrubs stares at a computer screen, completely unaware of what's going on around her.

  
"Excuse me, Miss?" Alfred says politely. Even when he's anxious, Alfred still manages to act like his charming, British self. The nurse glances up at us with a raised eyebrow.

  
"Can I help you?" She asks, not sounding like she wants to help us at all.

  
"Yes, we're here to see Bruce Wayne. He came in not long ago in an ambulance. We're his family." Alfred explains. The nurse's eyes light up with recognition at the mention of Bruce's name. How typical.

  
"Oh yeah, Bruce Wayne." She says with more enthusiasm now, a dreamy smile on her face. "I remember him coming in. Hard to forget a guy like that, you know? He's still being seen by the doctor. He's asked for no visitors."

  
Alfred and I exchange confused looks, shocked to hear this. It doesn't make sense for Bruce to ask for no visitors. We're his family, for crying out loud! We should be able to see him.

  
"I'm sorry, but what? I must have misheard you." Alfred says. The nurse gives us an annoyed look.

  
"He doesn't want visitors," She says in a clearer, louder voice. I can't help but glare at her. She doesn't have to be so rude about it.

  
"Can you at least tell us what happened?" I ask. The nurse looks at me like she has no idea what I'm talking about.

  
"We already know what happened. They told me when they called." Alfred says before the nurse can say anything. My head swings in his direction, anger flaring up inside of me. I shouldn't be as surprised as I am about Alfred withholding the truth from me. I did predict that this might be the case, but still. I hate being lied to, especially when there's no good reason for the lie. Bruce and Alfred seem to be lying to me more and more recently.

  
"You can sit and wait until he comes out." The nurse says, gesturing to the chairs behind us. The nurse goes back to her computer, a clear signal that the conversation is over. Alfred sighs loudly before thanking the woman and turning to sit in one of the black, cushioned chairs. I follow Alfred so quickly that I practically step on his heels. I take the seat next to him, leaning over with a frown.

  
"Why did you tell me that you didn't know what happened to Bruce?" I ask, trying to keep my anger under control. I run a hand through my hair, praying that whatever has happened to Bruce, he's okay. I need him to be okay. He can't not be okay.  
Alfred glares at me, his hands folded on his lap and his pointer fingers tapping against one another.

  
"Irrelevant," is Alfred's only answer. I sigh loudly frustration and sit back in my seat, staring at a painting of lilies that hangs on the opposite wall. I turn my head in his direction.

  
"So what happened? Is he going to be alright?" I ask, biting my lip nervously. Alfred doesn't even look at me, looking straight ahead instead.

  
"He was crossing the street when a car came out of nowhere, and ran over his foot. He'll be fine." He says in a monotone. I turn to Alfred in surprise, not having expected such a random answer. I mean, having your foot ran over by a car? Not even the rest of your body, but just the foot? How often does that happen?!

  
"It was only his foot?" I ask, blinking in confusion. Alfred gives me an annoyed look, like he's talking to a toddler instead of a young teenager.

  
"Yes, Master Dick. It was only the foot. He's going to be okay." He answers. I fall back against the chair, thankful that it was only the foot. It could have easily been so much worse. Then a thought occurs to me.

  
"Will they have to chop it off?" I ask, imagining Bruce with only one foot. He'll have to use a wheelchair to get around, or maybe we can get him one of those mechanical feet. Like a robot. That would be kind of cool, actually. Bruce would be a cyborg!

  
"No, they won't have to chop it off!" Alfred says in a louder voice, giving me a disgusted look. "Where would you get an idea like that?"

  
I shrug in response, "You never know. It would be kinda awesome, don't you think? He'd have to get a mechanical foot. Not only would he be a billionaire, but he'd be a billionaire with a robot foot. I mean, how many people can say that about themselves?"

  
Alfred looks at me like I've lost my mind. I don't know why he's looking at me like I'm crazy. It sounds like a very realistic possibility to me.

  
"He's not going to have a mechanical foot, but I'll make sure to tell him you were hoping for it." Alfred says. I go cold with fear at his words.

  
"No! Please don't tell Bruce I said that! I wasn't hoping for it, I was just asking. It's not like I actually want that to happen." I say, a little more desperately than I intend to. Alfred studies me for a moment before answering.

  
"Alright." He says, and then points a finger at me. "But no more talk of Bruce having to get his foot cut off."

  
I nod eagerly, deciding that I'll try to keep my mouth shut for the time being. Best to not saying anything at all, that way I won't say anything awful that Alfred can go and repeat to Bruce.

  
"Wait a second, if you knew it was just the foot, why were you so worried when you first told me?" I ask curiously, cocking my head to the side. It seems that I can't shut up today, even if I want to.

  
Alfred looks at me like I'm stupid. I guess I'm saying a lot of stupid things right now, because he keeps giving me that same look. Not that I shouldn't be surprised by that. Without Bruce by my side, I'm more of an idiot than usual.

  
"Because he's my son. I'm going to worry about him no matter what." Alfred answers solemnly. I wasn't expecting this answer. I never really thought of Bruce as Alfred's son. Sure, Alfred raised him after his parents were murdered, but I guess I never thought about what that really meant. Alfred took up the role of a parent. It kind of explains why Alfred never goes against Bruce, no matter what terrible thing Bruce does. He loves Bruce the way a father loves his child, and nothing can ever change that.

  
We're both silent for a few minutes, my gaze settling back on the lilies painting. I stare at the strokes of the paintbrush for a long time, thinking about this morning when Bruce left the manor. About how I thought I'd see him again in only a couple of hours. I never imagined something like this would happen. It just seems so unexpected, but a lot unexpected things seem to happen in life. Like my parents falling to their deaths? That was unexpected. It's not like someone planned for that to happen.

  
My mind goes back to Bruce, trying to imagine him crossing the street when out of nowhere, a car comes racing by and runs over his foot. I wonder if Bruce screamed. I wonder if there's tire tracks on his foot now. I wonder if he felt any pain at all. I wonder if he even knew what was happening as it happened. If it was me, I don't think I would have. I think sometimes it's hard for your brain to register bad things as they happen to you. Sometimes, you don't realize what's happened until after its already happened. I know what that's like.

  
It's at that moment that a terrible thought crosses my mind. The kind of terrible thought that makes your stomach hurt and makes it hard to breath.

  
"Alfred?" I ask in a quiet and scared voice. Alfred hums in response to show that he's listening. "I think this might be my fault."

  
This gets Alfred's attention, his head turning in my direction with a surprised and perplexed expression. I chew on my lower lip and look down in shame. I feel too awful to try and meet Alfred's eyes.

  
"Whatever do you mean, Master Dick?" He asks quizzically. My hands twist together in my lap. I'm not even sure how to answer Alfred's question.

  
I can't believe I didn't realize this before now. It was right in front of my face this entire time. Maybe I just didn't want to face the truth? I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. I am the world's biggest coward.

  
"Master Dick?" Alfred repeats after a minute of silence. I don't have a choice now. I have to tell him. I can't sit here in silence forever. I know that once I tell Alfred the truth, he's going to hate me even more than he already does. I take a deep breath before answering, because I know there's no way I can ignore answering this question now.

  
"It's my fault Bruce is here." I nearly whisper, sinking in my chair. I'm so ashamed that I can't look Alfred in the face, so I don't know what his initial reaction is. There's a second of silence before Alfred sighs loudly, and I can hear him shifting in his seat so he can face me more fully.

  
"And why would you ever think that?" He says quietly. I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. I keep my eyes on my twisting hands in my lap. It has suddenly become much harder for me to talk. Alfred waits patiently for me to answer.

  
"He went out to get my birthday present, Alfred. He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me." I say, in a voice so small that Alfred has to lean in closer to hear me.

  
If this was Bruce I was talking to, he would tell me to look at him when I speak. He would want to see my eyes, and then he would comfort me when I started to cry. That's not what Alfred does though. Alfred doesn't ask to see my expression, or tell me to look him in the eyes when I speak. Alfred doesn't feel the need to talk to me face to face, and he definitely won't comfort me by holding me in his arms like Bruce would. No, Alfred's different from Bruce. In that one way, at least, he's different.

  
I'm mortified when I begin to feel the tears gathering in my eyes. I wipe at them quickly, not wanting Alfred to see my cry. I grind my teeth together in anger. I hate how often I cry. It's like I can't go a day without bursting into tears. I'm such a baby. I'm an immature, pathetic, stupid crybaby, and everyone knows it. Bruce knows it, Alfred knows, and Barbara knew it too.

  
"This accident wasn't your fault." Alfred says, putting a gentle hand on my arm. I look at his hand in surprise, not having expected this gesture of kindness. I think this might be the first time Alfred has ever touched me. I don't know what to think of it.

  
"B-b-but he wouldn't have gone out if-"

  
"No, Master Dick." Alfred says in a louder voice, interrupting me. My gaze flickers up to meet his, his eyes full of pity and compassion. I didn't even know Alfred was capable of feeling compassion for me.

  
I study his face, amazed by what I find there. I guess I've never paid too much attention to Alfred's face, because I've never noticed before how the color of his eyes is a blueish grey. I have also never noticed how he has more worry lines then he does smile lines. Which makes sense, when you consider everything he's been through.

  
"What happened to Master Bruce today isn't your fault. The only person who is at fault here is the person who was driving the car." Alfred says, his face darkening significantly at the mention of the driver.

  
"Do they know who the driver was?" I ask. Alfred's eyes narrow at my question, his face turning sour.

  
"No, they kept driving, but the GCDP will catch who is responsible for this." Alfred says, his face coming a little closer to mine. "And you are not responsible. Do you understand?"

  
I nod, pressing my lips together into a thin line. I do understand what Alfred is saying, but at the same time, I don't know if I believe him. I don't know if Bruce will see it Alfred's way either. I hope he does.

  
Bruce went out for me, he was crossing the street to pick up my birthday gift. He wouldn't have been doing any of that if it wasn't for me. If I wasn't alive, Bruce would still be safe and unharmed, but because I am alive, Bruce is in pain. So I have to ask myself, is my existence worth Bruce's pain?

  
Just then, a woman comes walking down the hall towards us, her high heels clicking against the tile floor with every step. Her raven hair is in a pixie cut, her eyes an emerald green. She's looks like she belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine with her Prada purse and purple winter coat. Something about the way she carries herself reminds me of Audrey Hepburn.

  
The little girl the woman's holding on her hip seems like a rather strange addition to the woman. Almost like the little girl doesn't belong, like someone photoshopped her in. All I can see of the girl is her long, wavy black hair, a purple coat like her mother's, and a pair of cat ears on her head.

  
Alfred stands up when he sees them. The woman spots Alfred right away, making a beeline for us. I feel myself stiffen in my chair, not understanding what's going on. Who is this woman, and how does Alfred know her? More importantly, how does Bruce know her?

  
"Mrs. Malone," Alfred says in greeting. The woman stops in front of Alfred, a concerned expression o her face, and that's when I get a better view of the girl in her arms.

  
While the Malone woman doesn't even glance at me, the little girl looks nowhere but at me. And as I look at her face, I feel myself go cold, because I recognize that face. Even though she's only a toddler, the girl's face is both serious and distressed.  
I've seen that face before, and I have most definitely seen those cold, blue eyes before too. Those are Bruce's eyes.

  
"Where's Daddy?" The girl asks, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. I can see how the large teardrops fill those familiar eyes. That's when my stomach drops to the floor, because I've heard that voice before. It's the voice from the phone call I answered. It's that same little girl. This is Bruce's daughter.


	26. Helena

I stare at her in astonishment, only half believing what I see. I knew that there was a daughter, but I didn't expect to see her here at the hospital. Nor did I expect this strange, unfamiliar woman to be carrying her. I can only assume the woman is her mother, and Alfred did call her Mrs. Malone. So does that mean Bruce had an illegitimate child with this Mrs. Malone?

  
Alfred called her Mrs., implying that she's married. So wait, Bruce had an illegitimate child with a married woman? I wonder if Mr. Malone knows who the real father is, or maybe he thinks he's the real father. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. It saddens me to say that having an affair with a married woman sounds like something Bruce might do.

  
My eyes flicker down to Mrs. Malone's hand, taken back by how huge and glittering the big rock on her finger is. That's most definitely a wedding ring, and an expensive one at that. Everything about Mrs. Malone and her daughter screams money, so she must be married to someone rich.

  
"He's seeing the doctor right now. He's going to be just fine." Alfred answers the girl in a gentle voice. A tear runs down the girl's cheek, looking more like a sparkling crystal than a teardrop. Mrs. Malone still hasn't looked at me once, not even for a quick glance over.

  
"Have you seen him yet?" She asks, her eyes still on Alfred. Alfred shakes his head at her.

  
"He refuses to have visitors, and that includes family members." He explains. Mrs. Malone scoffs at this, a slight smirk growing on her face.

  
"Of course, it's so like him to not want visitors. God forbid, someone see him weak and in pain." She says under her breathe. I have to agree with Mrs. Malone. She does make a good point. Bruce always likes to give off the impression that he's more than human, impenetrable, and impossible to take down. He doesn't like to be helpless or weak, he prefers to be the one to help those who are helpless. Like me.

  
"I'm sure if it was up to Master Bruce, he wouldn't have come here at all. He would have insisted that I take care of him back at home." Alfred answers. A picture comes to mind of Bruce with a crushed foot back at the manor, insisting that it's no big deal, while Alfred pushes him to go to the hospital. It's kind of funny, while at the same time not.

  
"Yes, well, thank you for calling me." Mrs, Malone says. She places her daughter in one of the chairs opposite of us, and sits down next to her. She puts her purse in her lap and raises a brow at Alfred. "Although I am surprised that you did, considering the situation. I know Bruce had a certain way he wanted to do this."

  
My eyes go from to the woman to the little girl, who's watching me so intently that it makes me uncomfortable. I shift my gaze away from her, my cheeks going red. I don't know why, but I feel so ashamed of myself. Like I did something wrong just by being here for Bruce. I feel like it's not right for me to be here. What am I to Bruce anyway? I'm just his ward, and that's nothing when compared to his biological daughter. How can I mean anything to Bruce when he has something as adorable and as beautiful as that little girl?

  
I was so stupid to think that Bruce actually loves me. He doesn't love me. He loves that little girl with the black cat ears.

  
"I thought it was about time Master Dick met you two, don't you think?" Alfred says, sitting back down. Mrs. Malone half smiles, her eyes finally landing on me. She looks at me like she knows me, like there's nothing about me that she isn't already aware of. And she probably does know all about me. I'm sure Bruce has told her all about me, but he sure hasn't told me anything about her.

  
"It is. Bruce is in for a real shock when he sees the four of us sitting here, together." She says, her smile turning back into a smirk. The way she smirks reminds me of the way Bruce does. She seems satisfied with herself, just like Bruce always is.

  
Her daughter shifts in her seat, grabbing Mrs. Malone's arm and shaking it.

  
"Mommy, I'm bored. I want to see Daddy." The girl says in a high voice. It sounds so weird for someone to call Bruce "daddy". It sounds so unnatural, wrong even.

  
Mrs. Malone looks down at her with nothing but love and affection. It softens my heart to see the way she looks at her daughter.

  
"Daddy's with the doctor right now. We'll be able to see him soon. Do you want your books?" Mrs. Malone says in a soft voice. Her daughter nods, and Mrs. Malone searches through her purse before pulling out a small pile of picture books. The little girl grins as she's handed them, settling back in her chair as she opens the first book.

  
I watch the daughter in fascination as she flips through her books, studying each picture with an intense look. I can't believe she's Bruce's daughter. She seems so innocent, unharmed by the world's cruelties. It's not how imagined a child of Bruce's to be.

  
Mrs. Malone can't be married, at least, not anymore. Her daughter calls Bruce her dad. Which means she doesn't have a dad at home, so Mrs. Malone must be a widow. Right? I'm not sure. It's all too confusing.

  
The girl's gaze goes from the book to me, as if she can feel me watching her. I quickly move my eyes to my lap, hoping she didn't catch me staring at her. I keep my gaze downward as I hear small feet stomp over to me. I can feel her presence, and I slowly lift my head to see the girl standing right in front of me. Her icy eyes watch me curiously. Her wavy hair falls on both sides of her face, and she's slightly frowning at me. She looks so young, she can't be any older than four.

  
"Who are you?" She asks, placing her tiny hands on my knees. Alfred and Mrs. Malone watch the two of us with amused looks. I open my mouth to answer her, but I don't even know how to answer that question. Who am I to Bruce? The ward that he likes to fuck? It's not like I could say that to anyone, much less Bruce's daughter.

  
"Who are you?" I end up asking, a slight smile playing on my lips. I don't know why I'm starting to smile. Maybe it has something to do with how the girl's eyes narrow playfully, or maybe it's her innocent curiosity. She says whatever she's thinking, and I admire that.

  
"I'm Helena," she says, standing up straighter and then pointing to Mrs. Malone, "and that's my mommy. Where's your mommy?"

  
"I don't have a mom." I answer quietly, my smile turning into a frown. Helena's eyes widen, her own frown deepening. I notice how Mrs. Malone shifts in her seat, like she's considering whether or not to get involved.

  
"Do you have a daddy?" Helena says in an equally quiet voice. I shrug, because I really don't know how to explain this sort of thing to a toddler. How do I explain to a child that my parents are dead? Would she even understand what that means?

  
"Not really. Bruce takes care of me." I answer. Helena's eyebrows pulls together in confusion, her face doubtful.

  
"My daddy takes care of you?" She asks, in a tone that makes it clear that she doesn't believe me.

  
"Uh, yeah, I guess he does. It doesn't make much sense. I'm just as confused as you are." I say, glancing up at Alfred and then Mrs. Malone. The two of them exchange looks, unsure of what to tell us.

  
"I think we should go over that later, once Bruce is done with the doctor. He should be apart of this conversation." Alfred says, giving me a meaningful look. I nod, deciding I could wait a little longer for the truth. It'll be nice to get the truth for once, instead of more lies. I deserve the truth. That's the least I deserve.

  
"What's your name?" Helena asks, turning her attention back to me.

  
"Dick," I answer. I'm about to ask her the same question, before I remember that she already told me her name. I search my brain for something else to say.

  
"Can I sit on your lap?" She says. Mrs. Malone gets ready to stand up at this, most likely to intervene. Her eyes flash to me, a worried expression on her face. I'm surprised by Helena's question, but it doesn't bother me. I'm actually flattered that this adorable little girl wants to sit on my lap. I wave Mrs. Malone off, giving her a reassuring look.

  
"Sure," I say brightly, and Helena doesn't need anymore invitation then that. She climbs onto my lap, making herself comfortable on my legs as she turns to face me. I try not to smile as I hesitantly put my arms around her waist. She places her hands on my shoulders, Helena's face that much closer to mine. The way we're sitting reminds me of the way I used to sit with my parents when I was little.

  
I study Helena's face, her eyes wide and her small, pink lips turning up into a smile. Her face is round and her cheeks are chubby, the way a toddler's face should be. She's so sweet it makes my heart melt. Helena is so friendly and trusting, it makes me want to protect her from all the evilness the world has to offer. It makes me want to protect her from Bruce.  
Mrs. Malone watches the two of us with a slight smile. Helena glances at Alfred.

  
"That's Alfred," she says, "He lives with my daddy."

  
"I know. I live with your daddy too." I say with a nod and a grin. It's interesting how she already knows who Alfred is. I guess they've met before?

  
Helena looks at me in astonishment, her jaw dropping. It's as if me living with Bruce is the biggest surprise in the whole world.

  
"You get to live with my daddy and Alfred?" She asks in a near whisper. I nod in response. "You're so lucky! I wish I could live with Daddy."

  
Helena's smile melts away, her face losing that happy glow she had just moments ago. I feel my heart break for the girl. The poor kid can't even live with her own father. I know what that's like, but at the same time, she's probably lucky not to have to live with Bruce.

  
He's not as great as everyone seems to think he is. That's not to say Bruce doesn't have any good qualities, because he does. Bruce is one of the most generous people I've ever met, and I'm so thankful for everything he's done for me. But he's also very scary, and sometimes he hurts me. It's hard to always love and appreciate someone who doesn't always treat me the way I wish he would.

  
"But you get to live with your mom, right?" I say, in an effort to make Helena feel better. Helena looks over at Mrs. Malone and then back at me, smiling again.

  
"Yeah," she says, "I love my mommy."

  
"Good," I say, lightly holding her by her arms,"Never stop loving your mommy, okay? She's one of a kind. No one could ever replace your mom."

  
I don't mean to sound as intense as I do, but I can't help myself. Helena is so lucky to have both her mom and dad in her life. I remember what it's like to have my parents, and I remember how great it felt to feel so loved by them. There are a lot of kids in the world who aren't that lucky. A lot of kids only have one parent, and some of them have absolutely no one. There are a lot of homeless children in Gotham City. Helena doesn't realize how blessed she is. She might only live with her mom, but Bruce is obviously still a big part of her life.

  
Helena nods, her expression somber, and turns to give her mom a small smile. Mrs. Malone gives her a weak smile in return, but I can see the sadness in her eyes. It makes me wonder, who is Mrs. Malone? How did she meet Bruce in the first place and what kind of role does she play in his life now? Is she simply the mother of his child, or is she more than that? I hope she's not more than that.

  
"Do you like my cat ears?" Helena asks, cheerful again. I finger one of her soft cat ears, giving her a half smile.

  
"I love them. Do you like cats?" I answer, and Helena nods eagerly.

  
"I love cats. We have three at home. Princess, Polly, and Penny. I like to hold them and give them BIG hugs." She says with bright grin, opening her arms wide and pretending to hug an invisible cat. Her smile slowly turns into a frown. "But sometimes they scratch me."

  
Helena then proceeds to show me a small scratch on her wrist, and even though the scratch isn't that bad, I pretend to wince.

  
"Did it hurt?" I ask, holding her wrist gently. Helena grins again, shaking her head.

  
"Not really. I'm strong, just like my mommy and daddy." She says, puffing out her chest proudly. I can't help the laughter that spills out of my mouth. It's nice to forget about my own problems for a while, and focus on someone else. At least I don't have to worry about Helena only talking to me because of who's my guardian. She's too young to even understand those things, and besides, she's got her own connections. Helena's just a ray of sunshine.

  
"I bet you are. How old are you?"

  
Helena takes a moment to think before answering my question. She puts a finger to her mouth, her forehead scrunched in concentration. It's as if I've asked her what the meaning of life is. Finally, she holds up three tiny fingers. I do the easy math in my head. If Helena's only three, that means Bruce had already adopted me when she was born. So he hasn't been keeping her a secret from me since the very beginning, only somewhere between my tenth and my eleventh birthday. Of course, that's minus the nine months that Mrs. Malone was pregnant. So when I add all of it up, Bruce has been keeping Helena a secret from me for almost the entire time I've known him.

  
"Wow, that's so old! I think you can start driving now." I say, feigning surprise. Helena's face goes red, a shy smile on her face. She looks down for a moment before meeting my eyes, and honestly? It's so much cuter when little kids do that then adults. Everything kids do is cuter then when adults do it.

  
"Yeah, maybe," she responds, a serious look coming across her face. It's like she's really considering getting in the driver's seat and driving. I miss being that young and thinking anything is possible. Growing up means realizing your boundaries, and coming to terms with the fact that some things are just not possible.

  
"Bruce?" Mrs. Malone says in an shocked tone. I follow Mrs. Malone's gaze to the end of the hallway.

  
My heart feels like it's being squeezed when I see Bruce wobbling and struggling towards us, silver crutches under his armpits. His right foot is wrapped in gauze up to his lower calf. I've never seen Bruce have so much trouble with something before, especially with something as simple as walking. His face is tight, and he looks angry, his teeth grinding against each other. He looks so frustrated, so miserable, that all I want to do is run to him and make him feel better. I hate seeing Bruce so upset. He doesn't deserve to be upset, he deserves so much more than that. He's given me so much, Bruce deserves the world.

  
He looks up when Mrs. Malone says his name, and his eyes widen at the four of us sitting together. It's like he doesn't even see Alfred and Mrs. Malone though. Instead, Bruce's eyes are glued to me, and Helena sitting on my lap.

  
He murmurs two words under his breathe, "Oh fuck."

 

 

 

 


	27. An Awful Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you guys know, I follow a writing schedule of 500 words a day, so there should be a new chapter at least once a week. I have a lot of ideas for this story, and plan to take it far, so I hope you guys are into that. Let's just say, this is going to be a long story.

“DADDY!” Helena shouts before anyone can respond. She jumps off my lap and races to Bruce, practically tackling him to the ground in a hug. She wraps her arms around his lower legs, Bruce struggling not to lose his balance. He manages to put a hand on the wall to stable himself, but one of the crutches goes clattering to the floor. Mrs. Malone is quick to follow Helena, instantly pulling her off of Bruce and retrieving the crutch.

  
“Honey, Daddy’s hurt. You're going to make him fall.” She tells Helena, trying to stay patient. Alfred and I follow quickly behind Mrs. Malone. I approach Bruce cautiously. He glances up from his whining daughter and our eyes meet.

  
His gaze is tentative, worried, questioning. Bruce understands the situation he just found me in, and he isn't sure how I'm responding to it. And to be honest? I don't really know how I feel about this situation. I want to hate Helena. It should be so easy for me to hate her. It feels like she took Bruce from me, like she took his love away from me. Bruce doesn't love me, he can't love me when he has someone like Helena. Helena's changed everything for me and Bruce. Nothing will be the same ever again, and I should be able to hate Helena for that reason alone.

  
I don't hate her though. She has made it impossible for me to hate her. Helena's so sweet, and kind, and happy that it makes me enjoy her too much to hate her. How can I hate someone so innocent and carefree? It's not her fault her father is a liar and a cheat. She didn't asked to be born to someone as manipulating and as controlling as Bruce. I can't hate her. I might have just met her, but I already love Helena like she's my own sister.

  
"I...didn't expect all of you to be here." Bruce says, as he falters his way over to the chair I was sitting in. The four of us follow closely behind him, ready to catch him if he falls.

  
Bruce collapses into the seat with a relieved sigh, leaning his crutches against the side of the chair. Helena wastes no time before crawling onto his lap. Mrs. Malone objects for a moment before Bruce waves her off. He wraps an arm around Helena and pulls her farther up his lap to make himself more comfortable.

  
It's so strange, seeing Bruce act this way with Helena. He seems like a real dad. I mean, if I didn't know Bruce and I was just a stranger passing by, I would think he's just like any other dad in the world. A nice, good guy who loves his kid. Bruce could be a nice and good guy when he wants to be, but he's not always. Bruce holding Helena on his lap is only one side of Bruce. Bruce as a father is just one of the many sides there are to him. I'm not used to seeing this version of him. It seems so...off.

  
But above all us, it hurts. It hurts to see Bruce act this way with someone. He looks at Helena with so much love and admiration, and I thought he felt that way about me. I thought I was the most important, most special thing in Bruce's life, but it doesn't look that way from over here. I don't think I mean anything to Bruce.

  
It's like what he said all those months ago when he tried to send me to Gotham Academy; I'm nothing but a plaything. I'm just something that Bruce owns to entertain himself so he doesn't get bored. I'm not a real person to him. And one day, Bruce is going get tired of me, and throw me away. He's not going to want me anymore.

  
I know this is a fear I've always struggled with, but it seems so much more possible now. All this time, I've thought I was Bruce's only family, but I was wrong. Bruce has a daughter, and she's no longer just a voice I heard on the phone. She's no longer an idea or a thought in my head. Helena's a living, breathing child who has the brightest smile and clearly adores her father. She's as real as I am, and that makes my insecurities and fears that much more real.

  
"I am responsible for this, Master Bruce. I called Mrs. Malone and told her to come here." Alfred says. Bruce's eyes shift from Helena to Alfred, his face hardening. It's clear that he's angry about me meeting his daughter. I take a step back, fear crawling through my veins. When Bruce gets angry, he tends to take it out on me, so it's best to create some space between the two of us.

  
"I had a certain way I wanted to do this, Alfred. This is more of a delicate situation then you realize." Bruce says in a low voice. Mrs. Malone scoffs loudly, Bruce's gaze flickering to her.

  
"That's just an excuse you made up so that you could prevent this from ever happening. You know the truth had to come out eventually. Alfred did it for you, because he knew that you couldn't do it yourself." Mrs. Malone interjects. Bruce glares at her, ready to respond, when Helena touches his cheek with her small hand. Bruce's attention instantly turns to her, his gaze softening.

  
"Did you get hurt, Daddy?" She asks in a quiet and concerned voice. Her expression is one of caring and compassion. Helena is so worried about her father, and it makes me love her even more.

  
"I did sweetheart, but don't worry. I'll be better in no time." Bruce assures her with a small smile. I take a step towards him, having almost forgotten that Bruce was injured. I was so caught up with the surprise of Helena and Mrs. Malone, that I almost forgot the reason why we're all here in the first place.

  
"What did the doctor say? Are you going to be okay? Is your foot broken?" What happ-"

  
"Dick," Bruce interrupts me, a hand reaching out to hold my wrist. I feel the warm, familiar hand against my skin and instantly feel a little calmer, "I'm going to be alright. Stop worrying so much."

  
He gives me a small, reassuring smile. After a moment, I return it, noting how happy Bruce looks to see me so worried. If our roles were reversed, I'd feel the same way. I have been the injured one before, many times actually, and it does feel good to know that Bruce worries about me. Not that I want him to worry, but it's comforting to know that someone cares.

  
"But what did the doctor say?" Mrs. Malone asks, breaking my thoughts. Bruce lets go of my wrist as he turns his attention to the rest of our little group. I wish he hadn't. I miss his comforting touch.

  
"Surprisingly, it's not broken. It's only some soft tissue. I have a doctors appointment for tomorrow to get fitted for a boot. They say I'll have to wear it somewhere from four to six weeks. They wanted to walk me out, but I said that was unnecessary." Bruce explains. I scratch my head in confusion, because I have no idea what Bruce means when he says boot. Although, I am relieved to hear that his foot isn't broken. Bruce got really lucky today, all things considered.

  
"You can borrow my sparkly boots," Helena says, making me smile. Bruce looks down at her fondly, a smile playing on his lips.

  
"It's not that kind of boot, Helena. This boot is more like a big, black cast for my foot. It looks like a boot, so people call it that. It'll help me walk better with the crutches. Hopefully, I'll be able to walk without the crutches within a couple of weeks." Bruce tells her.

  
"I presume I'll be chauffeuring you to the doctor's tomorrow, Sir?" Alfred says. Bruce, Mrs. Malone, and Helena's eyes all go to Alfred, but not mine. I'm too busy looking at Bruce, studying his jaw line and the shape of his eyes.

  
I'm so glad and relieved to see him okay. I was so afraid something really awful had happened to him, but Bruce is going to be fine. Something so much worse could have happened to him today. It would have been so easy for that car to injure more than just Bruce's foot. For all I know, Bruce could have died today. Bruce could die any day. I never know when will be the last time I'll see him, and I don't know how to handle that. I don't even know if I can.

  
"If you don't mind," Bruce answers, his gaze turning to me for only a moment, "but Dick can't come."

  
"What? Why not?" I interject, my voice loud with anger. Why can't I go anyway? I love Bruce and I'm worried about him. I want to know that he's going to be okay. I should be able to go to the doctor with him. I want to know everything that's going on, so that I can help him. Bruce's the only family I have left, so I have a right to be there with him.

  
I look at Helena and Mrs. Malone, wondering if Bruce really is my only family now. Is it possible that I have more family than I'm aware of?

  
"You shouldn't have to worry yourself with things like my health. You're too young for that." He says. My hands hanging by my sides tighten into fists. I glare down at Bruce hard.

  
"I'm about to be fourteen, I'm not a child anymore. It doesn't matter if you want me to worry about you or not, I am. I have a right to be there with you." I argue. Alfred and Mrs. Malone look away awkwardly, and I can feel my face go hot. It just occurred to me that this might not be the best time to argue with Bruce.

  
Bruce returns my glare, but it's a lot more threatening and scary when he does it. I feel myself shrink under his harsh gaze, already regretting having said anything at all. I should have just kept my mouth shut. You'd think that by now, I would know better.

  
"You have no such right. Whether you're there or not is up to me, not you. This conversation is over." Bruce says, with a tone of finalization. I look down at the floor, feeling ashamed for having said anything at all. Bruce is right, of course. It's not up to me, and it isn't my right to go with him. I don't have any rights, not anymore.

  
I can feel the tears coming, and I bite on my lower lip harshly, forcing myself not to cry. I am not going to start crying, especially in public like this. I don't want Helena and Mrs. Malone to think I'm a pathetic child, even if I am. That doesn't mean they have to know that though.

  
It's just something about Bruce. He has a way of getting to me, of making me cry. He knows all my insecurities, and he knows the exact things to say to make me hurt. I love him, but it's painful. There's nothing worse then when the person you love most in the world hurts you.

  
"So Master Dick will stay home by himself tomorrow?" Alfred asks, and I look up at him in surprise.

  
I've never stayed at the manor by myself before. Alfred is always home with me, and when Alfred's not there, Bruce is. I haven't had the experience of staying home alone, and that's probably because Bruce is afraid of what I'll do in that time alone. I would love the opportunity though, I wouldn't do anything terrible or dangerous, I just like the idea of staying home alone. As far as I know, most kids my age have already experienced that.

  
"That's definitely not happening." Bruce objects. The small hope I had for a moment burns away into black ashes.

  
"Well then what do you suggest, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks, his tone turning slightly sour. Bruce lets out an aggravated sigh, waving Alfred off.

  
"We'll deal with this later. Right now, I just want to get home." Bruce says, sliding Helena off his lap. Her lower lip trembles, her eyes wide and watery.

  
"But I want to stay with you, Daddy." She says in a small voice, and I suddenly have the urge to wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. Poor Helena just wants to spend time with her father. She doesn't even get to live with him. The least Bruce can do is spend some quality time with her.

  
"I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Bruce. You can't keep the truth from Dick anymore." Mrs. Malone says, pulling Helena towards her. Helena's having none of that though. She pulls away from Mrs. Malone's with a whine, and settles down on the floor by Bruce, clinging to his legs. Helena glares at Mrs. Malone, an angry expression on her face. It's obvious to me that Helena does not plan on leaving Bruce's side any time soon.

  
Mrs. Malone sighs loudly, giving Helena an exhausted look. I'm guessing this is something they have to go through every time Helena sees Bruce. It's kind of cute, but also really sad and tragic.

  
"And I will, but I think it's best if I do it alone." Bruce says, his gaze meeting mine. I feel my heartbeat double in speed when Bruce looks at me. He looks so concerned and hesitant that it makes my heart hurt. He cares about me, I know that at least.  
I want to know the truth. I need to know the truth, but I'm scared as well. I'm scared that whatever the truth is, I'm not going to like it. I mean, how could I? I've already found out that Bruce has a three year old daughter, and I don't really like that. Sure, Helena is the cutest and I've warmed up to her, but it still makes me insecure to know she exists. She's just another reason for Bruce to stop loving me.

  
Helena's only half of the truth, and I can't imagine the other half being any better. Maybe it's best if Bruce just keeps lying to me. Maybe he knew what he was doing when he did. What if Bruce wasn't keeping Helena a secret for selfish reasons, but for me instead? What if he was lying so as not to hurt my feelings?

  
No, however much the truth might hurt, I need to hear it. I can't continue to live a lie and pretend things are the way they've always been. Everything is different now, and I don't think I can pretend that it isn't. I have to know the truth.

  
"That's fair," Mrs. Malone says with a nod.

  
I swallow loudly, silent and unmoving as Mrs. Malone proceeds to remove Helena from Bruce's legs. She has to coax her off, promising her that Bruce will visit them tomorrow, the way he always does.

  
I shouldn't be surprised to hear this, but I still am. Of course Bruce visits them often. He's gone for long hours everyday. It should have been obvious to me that he sees Helena during that time. I'm still surprised though, and it only makes me more upset with him. This has been happening everyday for the past three or so years. It's something he's lied about day after day, and Bruce doesn't even feel guilty about it? That doesn't even make sense to me.

  
"Dick?" Bruce says with concern, pulling me out of my thoughts. Bruce is trying to make it look like he isn't struggling to stand, but I know he is. I move to help him up, but Alfred and Mrs. Malone get there before I can. Instead, I stand there and stare at them, like a loser.

  
"Let's go home." Bruce says, once he's standing and leaning against the crutches.

  
I walk out of the hospital and to the car in a daze. I can't even focus on anything that's going on around me. I'm too anxious about the conversation Bruce and I are going to have at home. I'm so afraid to know the truth, yet so eager. I want to know who Mrs. Malone is, and I want to know why Helena was kept a secret from me. None of that changes the fact that I'm scared though.

  
We say our goodbyes to Mrs. Malone and Helena by the Lamborghini. I watch Bruce closely as he puts a gentle hand on Mrs. Malone's arm. I can see how his eyes soften when he looks at her, shifting a little closer to her. His head turns to the side, as if to move in closer, but then Bruce stops. He glances at me and pulls away from Mrs. Malone, quickly letting go of her arm.

  
I know why he was moving closer to her. Bruce was going to kiss Mrs. Malone. He was going to kiss the mother of his child, and I know now what she means to him. Mrs. Malone is one of Bruce's many girlfriends. Except she's not like the other woman Bruce has been with, because they have a child together. That makes all the difference.

  
I hate all of Bruce's girlfriends. No, that's not true. To say I hate Bruce's girlfriends is too harsh. It's not the woman I hate, but the fact that Bruce dates at all. Why can't Bruce only be friends with Mrs. Malone? Does he not know how to have a platonic relationship with a woman? Why am I not good enough for Bruce? It's like no matter how hard I try, I'm never enough for him.

  
"I'll call you later, Selina." Bruce murmurs. So her first name's Selina. I think back to the call I answered on Bruce's iPhone, and how the caller ID had only said the letter S. Is Selina Malone the S on Bruce's phone? Maybe Helena took her mom's phone that day without Selina realizing it, and called Bruce. Little kids do that sometimes, right?

  
I'm about to slide into the backseat of the car when I suddenly feel a small body slam into mine. I look down to see Helena wrapped around my legs, a bright smile on her face. I watch in awe as Helena pulls away. Her grin is so large that it covers her whole face.

  
"Bye, Dick." She says happily, making me smile. Just looking at that sweet face makes all of my problems melt away.

  
"Bye, Helena." I say, watching Helena run and jump into Selina's arms.

I close the car door behind me, Bruce's words muffled as he finishes saying his goodbyes outside. Apparently, Helena refuses to leave his side. I lean my forehead against the car window, sighing loudly. I feel like today has been so exhausting, and all I want to do now is go home and go to sleep. Not that I'll be able to, because Bruce and I still need to talk.

  
I close my eyes, because maybe I can slip in a short nap before we get home. I'm asleep before I can even finish another thought.

 

 

**********************

 

  
I'm confused when I wake up. I feel the soft bed beneath me, and blink several times, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I sit up, slowly recognizing Bruce's bedroom. The room is bathed in a dim light, the sky outside turning from blue to violet. Bruce sits on the edge of the bed, watching me intensely. I can hear the ticking of the clock and Bruce's calm breathing.

  
How did I get from the car to here? It's not like Bruce can carry me after the car accident today.

  
"Hi," he says, moving closer to me, his injured foot dragging behind him. I rub my eyes as Bruce settles in next to me, a protective arm wrapping around my waist. We're so close that I'm practically sitting in his lap.

  
"Hi," I yawn back. Bruce gives me a small smile, a hand coming up to stroke my cheek. I hum at his touch, closing my eyes and feeling the warmth of Bruce's skin against mine.

  
"I was going to tell you." He says. I open my eyes, that good feeling I had a moment ago melting away at Bruce's words. I know exactly what he's talking about.

  
"Yeah, right." I say, with more attitude than I mean to. Bruce never tells me anything. I don't think I can believe him when he says he was going to tell me. I don't think Bruce would have ever told me about Helena. Not if Alfred hadn't called her and Selina to the hospital.

  
I look down at my lap, but it's not a moment later when Bruce lifts my chin so that our eyes meet.

  
"I'm serious, Dick. I was going to tell you all about Selina and Helena in the Bahamas." Bruce insists, taking my hands in his. He watches me with an earnest look, and I don't know whether I should believe him or not. I don't know what the truth is anymore.

  
"I wanted to tell you about them sooner, really I did. I just could never figure out how," Bruce continues,"You've always been so insecure about my love for you, and I didn't want you to feel like you had competition. I never wanted you to think that I loved Selina and Helena more than I love you. I felt like I had to keep them a secret."

  
I can feel my stomach twist and my heart tighten. My throat feels like it's closing up, and I can feel the tears begin to form in my eyes. If my hands weren't being held by Bruce, I'd wipe them away.

  
"But you do love them more than you love me," I say, my voice smaller than a whisper. A tear falls down my cheek, and I feel the pad of Bruce's thumb against my skin when he wipes it away.

  
"Of course not, Dick! God, no!" Bruce practically shouts, scooping me up and placing me in his lap. I snuggle up to him and begin nuzzling Bruce's neck. I don't do it on purpose, it feels more like an instinct now. One large hand runs through my hair and the other one strokes my arm. It's amazing what being held by Bruce like this does to me. It always makes me feel so much more loved and cared for.

  
"I love you, Dick. I love you more than anyone else, and that includes Helena and Selina." He assures me. I can't help but smile when he says that. I'm not sure if he's telling the truth, but why would he lie about that? If Bruce didn't love me more than anyone else, he wouldn't have said it.

  
It must be true. It has to be true. I don't know what I would do if Bruce loved someone more than he loved me, because if he did, than what does that say about me? If there's someone Bruce loves more than me, that would mean I'm replaceable. I can't have Bruce replacing me. He's all I have. If I didn't have Bruce, I would be alone forever. No one could ever love me the way Bruce does.

  
"I don't ever want you to think that you mean less to me than they do. You mean the world to me, Dick. If I was only able to choose one person, I'd choose you. Every time." He whispers fiercely, the hand in my hair moving to my cheek, cupping my face gently. I stay still when Bruce slowly covers my mouth with his own.

  
If anyone asked me, I'd tell them that I didn't lean into the kiss. I'd never admit that I kissed Bruce back, that my tongue danced with his. It's too humiliating to admit any of that, it feels wrong to say that I was happy when Bruce kissed me. I had missed his kisses. It feels like ages since we've touched like this, even though we did just last night. Even that feels like forever ago.

  
As Bruce and I continue to kiss, my mind starts to wander. I begin to think that Bruce had a good reason for keeping Helena and Selina a secret from me. He was only trying to protect me, after all. He didn't want me to feel unloved. It was a selfless thing to do, when you think about it. Bruce hasn't been living with his daughter because he loves me so much. Bruce is a good person.

  
I'm not. I'm a terrible, horrible person. Here I am, only thinking about myself, and not about how Helena and Selina might be feeling about all of this. Helena's own father loves me more than he loves her, and I'm okay with that?! What is wrong with me? I am the worst human being. I am selfish, spoiled, and self-centered. I mean, really! It wouldn't kill me once in a while to think about someone else besides myself. I should try harder to be like Bruce. He's always putting my feelings and needs above his own.

  
We pull apart to catch our breathes, gasping loudly. So what if Bruce doesn't always listen to me or hurts me sometimes? He loves me way more than I ever deserve to be loved. I'm such a flawed person, I should consider myself lucky to have someone in my life who loves me. Bruce should be enough for me. He has to be enough for me.

  
"I love you, baby," Bruce whispers, a hand coming up to pet my cheek.

  
"I love you too," I say back, a small smile coming to my face. I expect Bruce to be happy to hear this, but instead, he sighs loudly and looks away. I sink back down in Bruce's lap, my momentary smile quickly becoming a frown. Bruce closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks upset, not with me, but with himself.

  
"There's something else I have to tell you." He says under his breathe, and I feel my heart begin to beat faster. I can tell from Bruce's tone and expression that whatever he is about to tell me, it's not going to be good. Dread rises in me like the water's tide.

  
"O-okay. What is it?" I mumble, my hands gripping his white button down tightly. Bruce looks like he's in pain as he rubs his forehead with a tired hand. He's probably exhausted after everything that's happened today.

  
"You're not going to like it." Bruce warns, and I swallow loudly. I want to tell Bruce to get on with it, to stop keeping me in suspense. But I can't. I can't even form words right now. I'm too nervous, too terrified.

  
"Selina isn't just Helena's mother. She's...she's also my wife."

  
And I swear, in that very millisecond, my brain shuts down.


	28. Feelings For A Liar

Bruce's words echo in my head, dancing and swirling through my thoughts. It's one sentence, one simple sentence, but I can't seem to get my head around it. It doesn't make any sense. Bruce isn't making any sense.

  
I turn away from him, rubbing my forehead. I must have heard Bruce wrong. He couldn't have said what I think he said. It doesn't line up.

  
“I don't think...can you say that again?” I breath, still looking away from him. I hear Bruce sigh, and I know whatever the truth is, it's painful, but it can't be what I thought he said. There's no way it could be that.

  
“It's more complicated than it sounds, but Selina’s my wife,” He says in a soft voice. I squeeze my eyes shut, my brain starting to hurt with this new information. Oh, so that was what he said.

  
I try to take a deep breathe in, but my throat feels like it's closing up. It's making it hard to breath, and my head hurts so much I feel like it's going to explode. My stomach's tied up in knots, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. How could Bruce have a wife?! I don't understand any of this!

  
I feel a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. I don't want anyone to touch me right now, especially not Bruce. If what he said about Selina is the truth, then I don't want Bruce to touch me ever again. What started out as confusion stirring in my stomach is quickly becoming something else. Something more dangerous, something worse.

  
"You're lying," I say through my teeth. Bruce must be lying again, he can't be telling me the truth. There's no way he is! Bruce would never marry someone who isn't me. He told me that he was going to marry me. We were laying in front of the fireplace together, and Bruce said that we were going to marry when I turned twenty one. He said we were going to adopt some boys, and that he loves me more than anything.

  
He's either lying now or he was lying then, and I hope to God that he was telling the truth then, because I don't think I could do it. If Bruce is being honest now, then I don't think I could survive it. I don't think I could even breath.

  
Bruce isn't married. There's no way he's married. That doesn't make any logical sense. If Bruce Wayne was married, people would know about it. Bruce can't go into a restaurant without the public knowing about it, much less get married! Bruce is lying to me. I don't know why he would make up such an awful lie, but he has.

  
"You're lying," I repeat in a whisper, a tear falling down my cheek. I can hear Bruce shift closer, his hand reaching out to me again.

  
"I wish I was, Dick," He says in a quiet voice. I open my eyes at his words, the anger growing inside me. I jump off the bed and turn to him, my face dark with fury. Bruce watches me with a concerned expression. He doesn't look angry, just upset, but that doesn't change the way I feel. That doesn't change the fact that he's lying to me.

  
"Stop lying to me!" I practically growl. Bruce runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

  
"I'm not lying. Why would I lie about something like this? Do you think I want to see you in this much pain? I wouldn't say any of this if it weren't true. I would never lie to hurt you," he insists. As I listen, I realize that Bruce is right. Every lie he's ever told me was to protect me, not to hurt me. Bruce wouldn't say something awful to me unless it's true.

  
I feel my entire body sag at this revelation, and then I start to realize what this really means. Bruce is...I can't even think it. That awful feeling like I'm going to be sick comes rushing back. Before I could stop it, tears begin to fall down my face. I grab my stomach and collapse onto the floor, feeling like I've lost the ability to stand. The world seems to spin around me, everything dizzy and blurry. I try to breath, but it's impossible. I grab my throat and try to force myself to breath, but I only end up choking. My eyes are clouded with so many tears that I can't see anything. My chest feels tight, and I swear, the world's ending.

  
The room's closing in on me. I'm going to die because I'm suffocating.

  
I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.

  
I'm being crushed by the atmosphere and I'm alone.

  
This is the end. The world is ending. I'm dying and Bruce is married.

  
He's married, he's married, he's married.

  
I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.

  
I'm gasping, and choking, and sobbing. I can hear a voice, but it sounds so far away that I can't answer. I feel a hand on my arm, and then two hands cupping my face. I look up towards the fuzzy figure, and I can feel gentle fingers wiping my tears away.

  
"Breath, Dick, breath. You're okay. You're going to be okay. Listen to my voice. Do as I say," the voice tells me, and I recognize the voice now. It's Bruce, my Bruce. The man who loves me. The man who protects me, guides me, and is always trying his best with me. He's here now, like he always is, to save me. To bring me back home, to bring me back to him.

  
"Breath in, and breath out. There you go. That's a good boy," he says, as I begin to follow his instructions. This goes on for several minutes; Bruce telling me to breath and me doing as he says. At least, I think it goes on for only a few minutes. It could be longer than that, but I don't know. I have trouble keeping track of time when I'm like this.

  
He holds me, his body wrapped around mine, while his damaged foot lays there helplessly. I press my cheek against his chest, slowly breathing, inhaling everything that is Bruce. I begin to feel warm, safe, and not alone. The world stops spinning, my stomach eases, and my crying begins to slow down. I'm so relaxed, that I feel like I can fall asleep. My eyelids begin to flutter closed.

  
"Good boy, I knew you could do it. It's okay, Dick. I've got you, I've got you," he whispers against my hair. My eyes go wide at his words, and I suddenly remember why I got so upset in the first place. I had almost forgotten what Bruce told me, but I remember now. The calm I was feeling only a moment ago disappears, replaced by an overwhelming fury. I furiously begin to push Bruce away.

  
I slam my hands against his chest as hard as I can, but Bruce is impenetrable. His body is like solid rock, even when he's injured. This only seems to feed my anger, forcing myself to wiggle out of his arms. Bruce grabs my wrists before I can try anything else, but I refuse to let this stop me. I raise my leg to give him a sold kick right in the middle of his chest.

  
Bruce grunts from the impact of the kick, letting go of my wrists for only a moment. It's still enough time to let me slip away though. I scramble away from him on the floor, jumping onto the bed and racing towards the bedroom door.

  
I refuse to stay in the same room with Bruce any longer. He's a liar to the worst extreme. I can't trust a thing he says, and I refuse to let myself be comforted by a liar anymore. My brain is so clouded with anger that I begin to think that I might be better off without Bruce.

  
I don't need him. I don't need to be with someone who makes me feel worthless and pathetic. Bruce has hurt me over and over and over again, and in my anger, I begin to wonder. I wonder if all the good times I've had with Bruce are worth all of the countless bad times I've had.

  
I go to open the door, but it's locked, making me more frustrated. Of course the door's locked! When is it not? Bruce just loves keeping me locked up in this extravagant prison, using me like I'm a toy whenever he sees fit. For once, I would like to try to open the door, and find it unlocked! Is that too much to ask for?

  
I grunt and growl as I struggle with the door, but I know my efforts are useless. I'm not escaping the room from the door, so I'll need to find another way out. I look around the room, considering my options. Meanwhile, Bruce is still trying to get off the floor. His foot is really keeping him from moving as quickly as me, and I find myself grateful for the car accident.

  
I rush towards the nearest window, sliding it open. I'm not thinking about what I'm doing, I'm just acting. I'm not thinking about how I'll probably break every bone in my body if I jump out of the window. I'm not thinking about how stupid of an idea this really is. All I'm thinking about is how I have to get away from Bruce, and it doesn't matter how I do it.

  
I feel the cool breeze come through the window and hit me in the face. I'm about to start crawling out when I feel something hard hit me in the back of the head. There's a moment of terrible pain, but I don't have much time to linger on it before everything goes black.

 

 

********************

 

  
I wake up confused, the whole bedroom shrouded in darkness. I'm back in Bruce's bed, tucked comfortably under the blankets. The window I had opened just before I was knocked out is now closed shut, the drapes closed so that the moon can't shine through. The only light in the whole room is coming from Bruce's phone. I turn to him, almost surprised to see him there.

  
Bruce is laying on the opposite side of the bed, his back to the headboard. He's studying something on his iPhone, while his injured foot rests on a pile of pillows. A large, blue icepack rests on his foot. I move to sit up, wondering how I got in the bed anyway. Bruce looks up at me, and smiles when he sees that I'm awake.

  
"Oh, good. You're up." Bruce says. I rub at the back of my head where Bruce hit me, wincing when I feel a large bump there. Bruce notices. "Sorry about that, but you didn't leave me many options. You were going to jump out of the window. I had to stop you."

  
I glance over at the shut window, not wanting to admit that Bruce might have a point. I was about to do something very stupid, but that didn't mean I was happy to be back in his bed. I'm still angry and upset about Selina, but more than that, I'm hurt. I don't understand how someone who loves me so much could do something like this.

  
"You betrayed me," I whisper in a broken voice, looking down at my lap. I can't even look at him right now. It hurts my heart to look at Bruce, and be reminded of what he did.

  
"I didn't mean to. I never meant to hurt you," Bruce says, his voice soft and patient. "I married Selina before I had even met you. I was barely twenty one at the time."

  
Twenty one. That's how old Bruce was when he adopted me, so he must have married Selina right before that. That means that Bruce has been married since the day I met him, and never even mentioned it. I'm so confused. I still don't see how Bruce could be married without the whole world knowing about it.

  
"You told me we were going to get married one day," I say in a tearful voice. The anger I was feeling only moments ago is fading away, and now I'm feeling an entirely different set of emotions. Sorrow, heartbreak, betrayed. I think I preferred being mad. Being sad hurts so much more.

  
I feel like my entire body is in pain, my chest hurts so much that it feels like my heart has literally shattered. I didn't know that was actually possible.

  
It's like everything I thought I knew is a lie. The person I love more than anything in this world is a stranger to me. And yet, I still love him. Even after all the secrets he's kept and all the lies he's told, I still love Bruce. How is that possible? I should hate him, I should never want to see him again, but that isn't how I feel.

  
Maybe I was angry before, maybe I was so furious with Bruce that I thought I never wanted to see him again. I wasn't thinking rationally though. I mean, I was willing to jump out of a two story window just to get away from Bruce. That's not the actions of a sane person. It was stupid of me to want to leave him. I'd never survive without Bruce.

  
Even though I was so furious with Bruce, it didn't mean I didn't love him anymore. Unfortunately for me, love doesn't work like that. You can't just decide you don't love someone anymore. Love isn't like a light switch; it's not something you can turn on and off in a second. Bruce has made a lot of mistakes, he's a liar, and a cheater, but that doesn't change the way I feel about him. I might want it to, but my heart doesn't listen to my brain. I don't think anyone's does.

  
Bruce said we were going to be married one day, but he already is married. You can't marry a married man. When Bruce first said we were going to marry, I was shocked and scared. A part of me dreaded the idea, but another part of me almost liked it.

  
It wasn't until this very moment that I realized just how much of me wants to marry Bruce. A big part of me wants to be with Bruce in that way. I want to be married, and have that kind of connection to someone. I've always liked the idea of being married, but not until I'm older.

  
If I were to marry anyone, it should be Bruce, right? Sure, sometimes he causes me pain, but no relationship is perfect. No human being is perfect. Bruce is only a human being, after all. I can't expect him to treat me right all the time. Besides, sometimes I deserve it. I don't always behave, and sometimes Bruce has no choice but to punish me. Bruce knows what's best for me. He's always known what's best.

  
"And we still will be married one day. I wasn't lying when I said that. I want to marry you more than anything, Dick. I can't wait until we're married," Bruce says eagerly, placing a loving hand on my shoulder. I still can't look at him, my eyes cast downward as tears begin to stream down my face.

  
"You're married to Selina. How can you marry me when you're married to her?" I sob. I shut my eyes tight in an effort to stop crying, rubbing at my eyes furiously. Bruce tugs on my arm, trying to close the gap between us. He can only move so much because of his foot.

  
"Come here, Dick," Bruce murmurs, continuing to tug on my arm. My brain tells me to stay where I am, it tells me not to forgive Bruce. My heart tells me to go to him, to find comfort in Bruce. My heart tells me to forgive, to forget, and to continue to love. As always, I decide to listen to my heart. It's easier that way.

  
I cuddle up to Bruce's side, his arm wrapped around me protectively. I press myself against him, and rest my head on his chest. I can hear Bruce's heart beating, the steady rhythm calming me. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of his body. The last of my tears falls against his shirt, and I wonder how it's possible for someone to cry as much as I do. I cry so often, I'm surprised I'm not dehydrated half the time.

  
"Selina isn't married to Bruce Wayne. She's married to Matches Malone," Bruce whispers. I open my eyes, my forehead scrunched in confusion.

  
"I don't understand."

  
"Matches Malone is a second identity I created five years ago, so that I could marry Selina without the public knowing about it," Bruce explains, "I met Selina when I was fifteen. While we loved each other very much, Selina wasn't fond of how public my life was. She had come from a very different background than me, and didn't want her private life constantly in the papers. So when we decided to marry, we thought it was best that I create a second identity. That way Selina and I could marry, and no one but our closest friends would know about it. Selina could live a comfortable, but private life. Exactly what she wanted."

  
I hum in response. I don't really blame Selina for wanting a more private life with Bruce. I don't like being on the news all the time either. If there was a way I could escape that part of this lifestyle, I would. Still, the situation seems...strange, at best.

  
"We bought a nice apartment in an upscale neighborhood, and I visit Selina everyday. Before you came along, I would spend most of my nights there. When Helena was born, it only seemed to make more sense to keep our family a secret. We wanted Helena to have a normal childhood, one where she could grow up without the whole world watching her every move. At that point, things had become much more complicated anyway. You were in the picture by then, and a huge part of my life. It became harder to tell you the truth. I didn't know how to do it without hurting you."

  
I run my hand down Bruce's chest, listening carefully. I imagine a teenage Bruce falling in love with a beautiful girl. I remember how Bruce looked when I first met him, not that much younger than he is now. It's hard to imagine him standing at the alter promising to love and be faithful to Selina forever.

  
To be faithful. Just the thought of Bruce trying to be faithful makes me want to laugh. Bruce wouldn't know how to be faithful if it hit him over the head. Not only is he cheating on Selina with me, but with any other woman that seems to cross his way. Bruce has no concept of the word faithful.

  
It hurts to hear these things. I don't like hearing about how Bruce loves Selina so much that he decided to marry her. I'm relieved that he's sparing me the details, because I don't want to know them. It would be too hard to listen to.

  
I wonder if I really know Bruce at all. He has so many secrets, so many skeletons in his closet. Bruce feels like a stranger to me, and yet, he doesn't. I know Bruce better than I know anyone else in the world, but there's still so much I don't know about him. Maybe I'm better off that way. The less I know, the better. The more secrets Bruce keeps, the happier I seem to be.

  
"I wish you hadn't told me any of this. I wish we could go back to how things were before," I murmur, as Bruce runs a hand through my hair. He sighs loudly, and I can feel how his chest rises and sinks as he breaths.

  
"Me too, Dick, me too," Bruce whispers into the darkness. I wait for Bruce to say something more comforting, but he doesn't. I can feel my eyelids begin to close, sleep overwhelming me.

  
I feel so exhausted, so drained after everything that's happened today. In one day, my entire life has changed. Bruce isn't who I thought he was, but that doesn't change the way I feel about him. I still love him, even though I don't want to. I can't turn off my feelings. It's not that simple. Maybe if I was able to stop loving Bruce, I'd find the strength to actually leave him.

  
I'm about to drift off to sleep when I hear Bruce whisper, "I love you Dick, and I will marry you. You come first, you always will."

  
I have a thousand more questions, but I'm too tired to ask them. Like why is Selina okay with Bruce dating other women, and how is she going to feel about me marrying Bruce Wayne while she's married to Matches Malone? There's still so much I don't know, but I'm too sleepy to find out the answers right now. For now, I just want to fall asleep next to the man I love, even if I can't trust him. Bruce is still all I have, and he's given me everything I could ask for. None of that has changed. Everything else might have, but that hasn't.

  
I fall asleep thinking about how messy and complicated my feelings are, and maybe it would be better if I didn't have feelings at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say how much I appreciate every single one of you, and how your kudos and comments mean the world to me.


	29. 3:48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sucks.

I wake up in the middle of the night, blinking at the darkness. It's so dark that I could hold my hand up to my face, and I still wouldn't be able to see it. Next to me, Bruce snores lightly, his arm tight around me. The alarm clock blinks the time in red neon numbers. It's 3:48 in the morning, and I would still be asleep if it wasn't for the fact that I have to use the bathroom. Now if only there was a way of sneaking out of Bruce's arms without waking him up.

  
Ever so slowly, I lift the hand that Bruce has wrapped around me. Bruce continues to snore, but as I raise his arm higher into the air, he suddenly stops. I freeze on the spot, my eyes wide as my heart begins to race. If Bruce wakes up, he might not believe that I'm just going to the bathroom. He might think I'm trying to sneak out of the room, and then he'll get mad. I don't want Bruce mad.

  
After a long, torturous moment of silence, the snoring starts back up again. I sigh in relief as I begin to slide out of Bruce's arms. Once I do, I gently place his arm back on his chest, mentally promising to come back right after I'm done with the bathroom. It's best not to keep Bruce waiting, even when he's asleep.

  
I slide on my stomach across the bed and onto the floor like a snake, moving as quietly as possible. I tip toe my way to the bedroom bathroom, feeling my way through the room. I close the door of the bathroom before turning on the light, and as soon as I do, I squint and cover my eyes. My eyes have adjusted so much to the dark bedroom, that the bright lights of the bathroom blind me.

  
Once I'm done with the toilet, and have finished washing my hands with Bruce's expensive lilac hand soap, I turn the light back off and carefully open the door. I take only one step onto the bedroom carpet before the lamp closest to the bed is being switched on, revealing a fully awake Bruce. He's watching me with a hard look, his foot still resting on the pile of pillows and his arms crossed against his chest.

  
It's such an unexpected sight that I jump at least four feet into the air in fright. My hand goes to my heart, and for a second I lose my breathe. Bruce's expression doesn't change though. Fear runs through my veins, and it feels like my heart is pounding in my ears.

  
"You scared me. I thought you were still sleeping." I gasp, still trying to catch my breathe. I wipe away a drop of sweat off my forehead. "Um, I just had to use the bathroom, I swear."

  
Bruce continues to glare at me for several seconds as I chew on my lip nervously. I'm afraid that he won't believe me, that he'll think that I was trying to escape. I'm afraid of what Bruce will do if he does think that, and I shiver at the memory of his urine going down my throat.

  
"Come here, Dick," Bruce demands in a low voice, and I have to force myself to move. My whole body trembles as I approach him, my eyes cast downwards. When I stop in front of him, I feel a hand touch my cheek. I'm surprised by how gentle the touch is.

  
Bruce lifts my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His gaze is soft and loving, and that's not what I expected. I expected Bruce to be upset with me for leaving him in bed, even if it was for something as simple as using the bathroom.

  
I let Bruce guide my face to his, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. I hesitate before responding, Bruce's tongue slipping into my mouth. A hand runs through my hair, pulling me closer. I sit on the edge of the bed, forced to lean over Bruce, as his tongue continues to explore every part of my mouth.

  
It's funny, because when Bruce kisses me, I can almost pretend that nothing has changed. I can pretend that Bruce isn't married, and that he hasn't been lying to me all these years. The problem with pretending though, is that at some point, you have to face reality. And it hurts that much more when you do. Just the thought of Bruce being married to Selina makes it feel like a knife is being twisted into my heart.

  
I turn my face away from him, and he lets me. I can't do it. I can't act like everything's normal when it's not. Bruce broke my heart. I might still love him, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm hurting. That doesn't mean I'm okay with him being married to Selina.

  
"Come on, Dick. Talk to me," Bruce says, reaching for one of my hands. I watch as our fingers lace together, my face clean of any emotion. My eyes flicker up to his. I shrug in response.

  
"I want to go back to sleep. I'm tired," I answer him. There's a thousand things I could say to Bruce. There's things I wish I had the courage to say, but I don't, because Bruce scares me. Bruce looks like he's about to answer me, but I stand and turn away before he can, our hands still clasped. My eyes land on the icepack on his foot. I reach a hand out to check that it's still cold, but it's not.

  
"Do you want me to get you a new icepack?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the icepack and not on Bruce. Silence is the only answer I get.

  
"You can lock the door again when I get back. I don't care anymore," I say in a monotone, finally turning to face him. Bruce watches me carefully, a thoughtful expression on his face. His eyes are full of concern, and while that would usually bring me some sort of comfort, it doesn't now. All I feel is a dark sadness, the kind of sadness that I feel like I could drown in.

  
"I'm worried about you. I know how hard this has been for you," Bruce whispers. I press my lips together, forcing myself to keep my thoughts to myself, because Bruce doesn't know how hard this is. He's never been in love with someone, and then found out they were married. He doesn't know what it's like to love a liar and a cheater. I point to the ice packet.

  
"Can I please just get you a new ice pack? I'm pretty sure you're supposed to keep your foot cold, not warm," I practically snap, wincing at my harsh tone. The hand Bruce was holding slips out of his. I don't mean to sound so angry. I thought I was over being angry at Bruce.

  
Bruce tugs on my arm hard, causing me to almost trip over my feet. I stumble closer to him, and before I have a chance to ask what's going on, Bruce is gripping me tightly by my arms and forcing his mouth onto mine.

  
He pushes his tongue into my mouth, and I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. All I can do is stay still and let Bruce ravish my mouth. I don't want to do this. I'm still so upset about everything that's happened today. I'm too exhausted for this. I just want to go back to sleep. Is that too much to ask for?

  
I barely struggle as Bruce forces my body on top of his, so that I'm straddling his waist. He grips my face tightly as he sucks on my tongue and lips. There's no point in trying to get away. I know I never will. Once Bruce gets started, there's no stopping him.

  
I can feel Bruce's hard cock against my groin, and it gives me goosebumps. I can't help how my arms snake around Bruce's neck, beginning to respond to his kiss. I don't understand what's going on though. My brain is screaming at me not do this. It wants me to tell Bruce no. My body is in desperate need for something else. I don't know how it's gotten to this point.

  
Our lips part, gasping for breathe. Bruce presses his forehead against mine, his pupils blown wide and a pleased smile on his face. A hand pets my cheek lovingly.

  
"I love you, Dick. Do you want to see how much I love you?" Bruce whispers against my lips. I tremble at his words, licking my lips nervously. I don't know what I want. My thoughts are all jumbled in my head, and I don't know what I feel anymore. Am I upset or angry with Bruce? Do I want to have sex with him or not?

  
I mean, I know I used to think that sex was a bad thing, but I know better now, right? People who think sex between me and Bruce is wrong just don't understand. Their minds are too small. That's what Bruce told me, and I'm choosing to believe him. But the sex is still so painful. Maybe I'd be more open to having sex with Bruce if there was a way to make it feel better.

  
"It almost always hurts, Bruce. Is there, um, can we make it hurt less somehow?" I mumble, embarrassed for asking such a stupid question. It sounds like a stupid question to me, because if there was a way to make the sex more pleasurable for me, Bruce would have done it already.

  
I'm also scared that Bruce will get angry at me for saying that sex hurts. I don't want him to think I don't appreciate him, because that's not true. I really do appreciate Bruce. He's done so much for me, there's no way I could ever repay him. That doesn't change the fact that having sex is painful for me though, but I don't want Bruce to think I'm being selfish. Sex isn't just about me, after all.

  
Bruce raises an eyebrow at me, his expression curious. I avoid his gaze, my eyes glued to the collar of his shirt instead. I'm so anxious I can practically feel my heart thumping against my chest.

  
"I'm n-not t-trying to say the sex isn't g-g-good, because, uh, well...," I trail off, trying to put my thoughts into sentences that won't sound insulting. Predictably, I fail at this, and I end up just biting my lower lip like an idiot. I'm like a scared, little baby. God, I'm so pathetic. How does Bruce even put up with me?

  
Bruce caresses my cheek, gently lifting my chin so that our eyes meet. I stare up into his blue eyes, feeling like I could fall into them. It's so easy to get lost in Bruce. He's so overwhelming and so much a mystery to me, more than I'd care to admit. I don't know how to handle him.

  
"There is one thing we could try," Bruce finally says. My eyes widen at his words, lips parting in surprise. I really didn't think there was anything Bruce could do for the pain. I had always assumed sex was supposed to be painful for me. I never thought there was a way you could avoid that.

  
"There is?" I ask in a near whisper, and Bruce gives me a condescending smile. Silently, Bruce reaches over and opens the nightstand drawer. He's quick to get out whatever he's looking for, but I do get a glimpse of a pile wrapped condoms. Each plastic wrapping is a different color and brand. It's like looking at a rainbow made of condoms. Bruce slams the drawer shut when he notices me staring.

  
In his hand is what looks like a bottle of lotion. I look at the tube curiously as Bruce instructs me to take off my pants. He says it so casually, like it's no big deal. I know that at this point in our relationship, it shouldn't feel like a big deal, but it does. When I take off my pants, I know there's no going back, and that kind of scares me.

  
"Maybe this isn't a good idea, Bruce. I mean, you're injured and you need a new ice pack," I say, searching my brain for an excuse not to do this. While my body is yearning for Bruce's touch, I'm not sure this is a good time to be doing this. Bruce has been in a car accident today and it's the middle of the night. We need our sleep after such an eventful day. It just isn't a good time to be having sex.

  
"Don't worry about my foot. It'll be fine, as long as you're on top," Bruce snaps impatiently, "Now hurry up and take your pants off!"

  
I rush to jump off of Bruce, not wasting anymore time before stripping myself of my pants and briefs. I hadn't even changed into pajamas tonight.

  
Bruce is starting to lose his temper with me, and I can't risk that. It's better if I do what he says without question. Even if what he wants me to do makes me super uncomfortable.

  
When the cold air hits my exposed penis, I shiver. I glance over at Bruce, and my whole body begins to shake when I realize he's already pushed his boxers down to his lower thighs. He pulls on my arm, forcing me to straddle his waist again. As I do, our cocks rub against one another, and without thinking about it, I close my eyes and let out a deep groan. It feels amazing to have Bruce's cock against mine like that.

  
"That's good, baby?" Bruce whispers in my ear, sending a tingle down my spine. I can't answer him, I can barely nod in response. I don't even realize what I'm doing when I begin to grind down hard against Bruce, his hands on my waist guiding me. I can't help how I throw my head back and moan, and while I feel ashamed for how I'm reacting, there's a voice in my head telling me to let go. Something inside of me wants to relax and enjoy this.

  
I hear the clicking of a bottle, and then Bruce is readjusting me on his lap so he has a clear view of my anus. I whimper in protest, instantly missing the hot friction of our groins rubbing against each other. Bruce chuckles at my response, and I watch as he squirts a clear liquid onto his fingers. It drips from his hand, and I fist the sheets as Bruce slips a thick finger into my hole.

  
It's not a completely unfamiliar feeling. Bruce has fingered me before, but not often. He usually just puts his dick up there, but I have found the sex to be more pleasurable when he uses his fingers first. It's still a little painful, but not as painful as when he doesn't. Either way, I'm grateful that he's using his fingers first tonight.

  
He begins to stroke, and at first it feels strange. Then Bruce hits something, like a magic button, and suddenly I'm a moaning and whimpering mess. Without thinking about it, I'm bouncing on Bruce's hand as he adds a second and third finger.

  
My head's thrown back, my eyes are closed, and all I can think about is how it good it feels to have Bruce's fingers inside of me. I become more erratic as Bruce continues, our loud panting filling the room, sweat glistening on my forehead. I don't know if it's the clear liquid Bruce is using or what, but his fingers feel awesome inside of me. It makes me eager for more.

  
"Such a good boy. I'm so proud to call you mine." Bruce praises, and this only seems to turn me on more. I'm making Bruce proud, and that's all that really matters. Making Bruce proud is good. It means Bruce loves me, and Bruce has to love me. "Think you're ready for all of me, baby?"

  
I nod desperately, his deep voice making me hard. It takes me by surprise when Bruce grips my chin painfully, and presses his mouth hard against mine. I whimper as Bruce licks the inside of my mouth, his fingers continuing to thrust into me. I can feel the tears spring to my eyes, but for once, I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying out of pleasure.

  
When our mouths part for breathe, Bruce grabs me by the back of my neck, holding me there. He pants, "Watch this next part carefully."

  
I'm breathing hard as I look down to watch Bruce cover his cock with the clear liquid. The same way he did with his fingers. He then starts messily covering my hole with the liquid. I gasp because it feels so warm and good. It's unlike anything I've ever felt down there.

  
I wrap my self around Bruce, pressing my face against his neck. I can smell his sweat, and instead of it being gross, it makes me smile. I feel better knowing that Bruce is as worked up right now as I am.

  
Bruce whispers my name before I feel his cock lining up with my hole. He grabs me by the waist, pushing me down onto his dick. I gasp at the feeling, the tears in my eyes falling down my face. Having Bruce inside me like this has never felt so, I don't know, fulfilling. His cock has never felt so smooth, and whole, and hot. I try to think of the word to describe how I feel, but my mind is drawing up a blank. I can't even think right now. Thinking takes too much concentration, and I can't concentrate on anything but the feeling of Bruce inside of me.

  
My body moves on instinct, bouncing on Bruce's cock at a rapid rate. Moans, whimpers, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. I try to form thoughts, but the only thing running through my head is Bruce. His name is like a song in my head, "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce..."

  
He's growling, his hands pulling at my shirt, touching every inch of skin he can reach. All I can do is hold on tight, and try not to die, because I swear, I think I might die. If it was possible to die because something felt too good, this is when it would happen.

  
It isn't until I feel a hand wrap around my own dick and tug, that I really begin lose it. It feels like a tidal wave of ecstasy washes over me, and before I know it, I'm coming all over Bruce. Bruce comes right after me, his cum shooting into me and making me feel even more filled than I was before. He's panting against my neck, licking and sucking the skin there. I can feel his cock beginning to soften in my hole, but I'm not in a rush to get his cock out of me. I just want to sit here for a few more minutes in peace, and try not to think about what all of this means for us.

  
That feeling of calmness doesn't last as long I'd like it to. All too soon, real and cohesive thoughts start to run through my mind, and I begin to realize the true meaning of what has happened.

  
My grip on Bruce loosens, and I barely notice when Bruce pulls me off of his cock. I land on my back beside him, my shirt sticky with cum and damp with sweat. It makes me uncomfortable. I stare up into the darkness of the room, the smell of sex invading my nostrils. I can't believe what just happened. Did I really just enjoy having sex with Bruce? I don't think that's ever happened before.

  
I run a hand through my hair, feeling gross and ashamed. After everything Bruce and I have been through, I still feel bad about how my body reacts to Bruce's. I remember when the thought of just being with Bruce in that way disgusted me, but that's not the case anymore. It's sad how I yearn for him, it's pathetic how I long for his touch and comfort. I feel awful for being with Bruce in that way. I feel like I'm doing something wrong.

  
This is all my fault. Everything Bruce has done to me up to this point has been my fault. Bruce would have never had sex with me in the first place if I hadn't been asking for it. I don't know what I did to lead him on, but I did. Bruce isn't to blame here, I am.

  
"Damn, that was...amazing," Bruce sighs, breaking the silence. I stare up at the dark ceiling, Bruce's words barely registering. I'm too angry at myself for enjoying the sex. I had sex with Bruce even after everything that's happened this past day. He's kept the biggest secret anyone could ever keep, and I still gave him everything he wanted. What is wrong with me?

  
"Dick, about your birthday," Bruce starts, his voice hesitant, "I'm sorry we can't go to the Bahamas like we planned. Once I've fully healed, we'll take our trip. Just the two of us, the way it should be, okay?"

  
I'm quiet for few moments before humming in response. In all honesty, I totally forgot about our trip to the Bahamas. We were supposed to leave tomorrow, but obviously, that isn't happening anymore. Bruce's accident has delayed our trip, and maybe it's better off that way. I'm afraid of what Bruce plans to do to me with all that free time on his hands.

  
Thinking of Bruce's accident brings back another terrible thought. I feel my body go cold, and I begin to chew on my lip anxiously.

  
"Hey, Bruce?" I whisper.

  
"Uh huh?" Bruce mumbles tiredly, and it's how I know that he's on the verge of falling asleep. I wish I was still that tired, but my thoughts are too loud in my head to be tired anymore.

  
"Is it my fault you, you know, got your foot run over by that car? I mean, you wouldn't have been there if you didn't have to pick up my present," I ask, sounding like a bumbling idiot. It's not like Bruce isn't used to that though. He knows how stupid and hopeless I am.

  
A loud silence follows my question, and my lip begins to bleed because of how hard I'm chewing on it. I know Alfred said I'm not the one to blame for Bruce's accident, but it still feels like it's my fault. Besides, it's not what Alfred thinks that matters. It's what Bruce thinks. His opinion means the most to me.

  
"Hmm, I suppose it is. I guess you're going to have to find a way to make it up to me," Bruce snickers, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. I try to speak, but I'm too devastated to talk. Tears begin to gather in my eyes again, but not for good reasons this time.

  
I feel Bruce's arm wrap around me, pulling me back on top of him. I rest my head on his chest, my cum stained shirt itchy against my skin. It's a constant reminder of what I've done.

  
I close my eyes, trying to focus on how nice Bruce's hands feels stroking my back. I try not to think about how Bruce wouldn't be hurt if it wasn't for me. He said so himself. What happened today is my fault, no one else's.

  
Bruce begins to snore gently, leaving me to drown in my thoughts. I wiggle against him, trying to make myself more comfortable, but it doesn't help. I still feeling disgusting and dirty. All I can think about is how Bruce could have died because of me.

  
It's my fault he had to go to the hospital today. It's my fault we're not going to the Bahamas anymore. If I didn't exist, Bruce wouldn't have any of these problems. Bruce would be so much better off without me. The whole world would be better off without me. I'm a waste of space, a failure as a human being. I'll never amount to anything more than Bruce's plaything. I'm pitiful. Does someone like me even deserve to live?


	30. The First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was supposed to write a different chapter, but this is the chapter that I really wanted to write. So here we are! I really hope you guys like this one.

When Alfred opens the front door to the manor, we're greeted by darkness. Considering how lonely and empty the manor usually feels, it's probably not the best place to bring a newly made orphan to, but it's still better than a foster home.

  
Dick is hiding behind my legs, whimpering quietly and his face wet with tears. I run a hand through his hair in an effort to comfort the poor boy. He looks up at me with wide, glassy eyes, his lower lip trembling. His eyes are rimmed red because of how much he's been crying, and my heart melts for him.

  
I remember all too clearly what it's like to watch the two people you love most in the world die. I remember what it's like to have your whole world crash around you. In only one night, Dick's entire life has changed. One second, he's an acrobat at Haly's Circus and has two loving, living parents. In the next second, Dick's just an orphan who is about become Bruce Wayne's ward. He's going to have a trust fund of billions. One day, he's going to belong to me in every sense of the word.

  
I walk into the manor, Dick scurrying in after me. Alfred closes the door behind him, letting the darkness of the manor swallow us whole. Dick's whimpers loudly, and Alfred is quick to switch on the light. As soon as he does, Dick quiets down.

  
I take my time getting off my coat and handing it Alfred. I glance over at Dick, who is standing with his back flat against the door, a terrified expression on his face. His eyes move quickly, taking in every inch of his new home. It's obvious that the vastness and mystery of the manor scares him, and I can't say that I blame him. After what happened to my parents, the manor scared me for a long time too. The whole place just seemed so much darker and sadder without my mom and dad in it.

  
"Do you want to give Alfred your coat, Dick?" I ask in a gentle voice, getting down on my knees so that Dick and I are at the same eye level. His eyes land on me, big and frightened, and then to Alfred. I make sure to keep my expression soft and patient, not wanting to scare Dick away.

  
I love Dick. I don't want him to fear me, I want him to love me. I know that with time, he will, but right now, Dick is scared and sad. He feels alone in the world. I know I did when my parents died. Dick is not alone though. He has me, and soon enough, Dick will learn that he can depend on me for anything. He will always depend on me for anything, and that's exactly how it's meant to be.

  
Dick hesitates for a moment before pulling off his old, dirty jacket. The jacket will have to go in the trash. I can't have my ward be seen in something like that.

  
He's still wearing the same sparkling leotard he was wearing during the circus performance, not having had the time to change into something more comfortable. Fortunately for Dick, I already have a whole closet filled with clothing for someone his size. I did know he was coming, after all.

  
"Are you hungry, Master Richard?" Alfred asks. Dick's eyebrows furrow, confused by the way Alfred addresses him. His bewilderment is honestly one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. He's so fucking perfect, it blows my mind. I can't wait to see how his small body feels against mine. I can't wait until I can kiss this those sweet little lips of his.

  
"He prefers to be called Dick," I tell Alfred, and Dick's eyes flash back to me. They soften slightly, and I can almost see the strong bond between us beginning to form. I give Dick a small smile in return.

  
"Do you like macaroni and cheese, Dick?" I ask kindly, and Dick nods in response, his eyes glued to me.

  
Yes, Dick and I got along well before tonight's performance, but everything's different now. He was more willing to trust then, but that may or may not be the case anymore. Before the show, Dick was an innocent child, but he's not anymore. Seeing your parents die changes you, and not in a good way.

  
I turn my head in Alfred's direction, "Will you please make some macaroni and cheese for Dick, Alfred? I'm going to bring him to his room. He'll eat there."

  
Alfred nods, leaving us for the kitchen. I turn my gaze back to Dick, smiling kindly.

  
"It's okay, Dick. You're safe now. I'll take care of you from now on. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise," I say solemnly. Dick's hands begin to shake uncontrollably, his eyes searching my face. One moment, Dick's standing there and watching me, and in the next moment, he's practically jumping on me, his arms wrapped around me in an iron grip.

  
I embrace him back, my long arms wrapping all the way around his small torso. Dick shoves his face against my neck, beginning to sob uncontrollably. I run my hands down his back, hiding my face in his hair and inhaling deeply. He smells so yummy, I swear I could take a bite out of him. The warmth of his body against mine makes my dick twitch in interest, and I pray that Dick is too busy crying to notice. I have to stop myself from kissing and licking every part of his face.

  
Instead, I focus on comforting the boy. Unfortunately, there's nothing more I can do than simply hold him and let him cry. I close my eyes, allowing myself to smile, because this is exactly what I wanted. Dick in my arms, trusting me, looking to me for comfort and support. This is where we're meant to be. Dick and I, together forever.

  
"I miss them, Bruce. I miss them so much," Dick weeps. Hearing how devastated he is, it breaks my heart. Dick is so perfect, so beautiful, he's a work of art. He deserves to be happy, he's meant to be happy, but right now he's not. Right now, Dick is anything but happy. I want Dick to be happy, because that's when he's most beautiful.

  
Dick's entire body shakes with every sob as I run a hand through his soft hair. I stand up, lifting Dick off the floor and into my arms. His legs wrap around my waist, his arms tight around my neck. He cries into my shirt, making it damp with tears, but I don't care about that. Dick can cry as much as he wants, as long as he's doing it with me. As long as he's with me, Dick can do anything he wants. Well, maybe not anything.

  
I make my way up the long staircase, and down the hall to Dick's new bedroom. As I walk, I try not to think about how easy it would be for me to touch Dick in all of his most intimate places. Dick is mine now, and I barely had to work for it. All it took was killing his parents and some bribery.

  
If I weren't Bruce Wayne, taking Dick home like this wouldn't have been possible. Taking in an orphan overnight is practically unheard of. There are piles of paperwork that needs to be filled out, and background checks that need to be done. Adopting a child is a long process. It's a process that would have put Dick in a foster home for a short time, and I couldn't have that. Dick shouldn't have to go into a foster home, even if it is only temporary. Dick deserves better than that. He deserves me, and I deserve him.

  
Dick isn't my official ward yet, but he will be. There's still lots of paperwork to go through, but I was still able to bring Dick home with me tonight. All I had to was slip some money over to some important people. That's the thing about people who have power; they act like they're above it all, but when it comes down it, everyone has a price. And it's a price that I am willing to pay.

  
Of course, I did have to make a quick phone call to Selina, but she didn't object to me taking Dick in. She knows what it's like to lose your parents, so she understood. We both agreed that, at least for the time being, my marriage to her was best kept a secret. We will cross that bridge when we come to it.

  
I stop in front of Dick's bedroom door, right next door to my own room. This isn't a coincidence.

  
I open the door, and make my way through the dark to Dick's new bed. I switch on the lamp that sits on the nightstand, a soft glow filling the room. Dick's new bedroom looks like any other guest room in the manor; boring and plain. I wanted to do something to make Dick's room look a little different from the rest of the home, but I thought that might look a little too suspicious. I can't have anyone thinking that I had planned for any of this before tonight. It's already looks suspicious that I have clothes that fit him. I don't need anymore evidence stacked against me.

  
Not that anyone would even do anything if they knew I had planned all of this. The only one who might find out about it is Alfred, and he would never go against me.

  
I sit on the bed, my back against the headboard and Dick still in my arms. His crying hasn't lightened up since he started. If anything, he's only crying harder now.

  
That's okay though. Dick can cry all he wants. I admire him for it. After what happened to my parents, I couldn't cry for months. I felt too empty and lonely to cry. I was too horrified, too wrecked with guilt to let myself properly mourn their deaths. If I had only done something to stop that man, my parents would still be here now. Their deaths were my fault, and that guilt will always be with me. It's an inescapable thing.

  
Dick clings to me as if his life depends on it. He holds onto me as if he's about to drown, and I'm the only thing that's keeping him afloat. I close my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy this moment. I've thought about a moment like this over and over again since I was fifteen years old. All I've ever wanted was to hold Dick in my arms, and know that he's mine. He is now, and no one could ever take that away from me. I won't let them.

  
"Everything's going to be okay. You're with me now. You'll never be alone again. I'll always be here for you," I whisper into his ear, and the crying seizes for just a moment. Dick peeks up at me through bloodshot eyes.

  
Dick is desperate to love someone, he needs to have someone he can count on. That person will be me. It has to be me. One day, Dick will realize that he's far better off with me then he ever was with his parents. One day, when Dick realizes I'm the love of his life, he'll see how great his life really is. He will be grateful for today's tragedy, because without the death of his parents, Dick would have never belonged to me. Dick would have remained a virgin forever, because no one could ever care for him the way I do.

  
"I know how you're feeling right now, Dick. I watched my parents die too. I was eight when it happened," I explain. Dick's eyes widen, his mouth parting in shock.

  
His grip on my shirt tightens. My groin strains against my pants. I shift uncomfortably, hoping Dick won't notice. I doubt he will. I'm sure Dick doesn't even know what it means when your dick gets hard. I wonder what he would think if he did get an erection. He'd probably be scared, maybe even start crying. Just thinking about it turns me on more.

  
I can't wait for the day that I get to fuck this little boy. I can't wait to get him underneath me, and fuck him like the slut he's meant to be. Only a couple of more years. I only have to wait a couple of more years, and then Dick will be mine completely. I'll be counting the days until then.

  
"Does it ever stop hurting?" Dick murmurs, wiping at his tear stained cheeks. He looks up at me with desperate eyes, his expression revealing just a shred of hope. I give him a sad smile as I run a hand down the side of his face.

  
"No, but it will ease. For you," I answer, my voice slick with sadness. It's never gotten easier for me. What happened to my parents will stay with me forever. It will haunt me for the rest of my life, the guilt as my constant companion.

  
Dick's face crumbles at my words, practically drowning in tears. This was not the answer Dick was looking for. I hold him tighter, pressing his face against my chest, rubbing the back of his neck gently. Dick cries into my shirt, and I have to stop myself from doing anything more than just holding him. Every part of my body longs to kiss him, to cover his body with my own, and show him just how much I love him.

  
As Dick continues to cry in my arms, I run my hands down his back and arms, enjoying the softness of his skin. Images of a naked, withering Dick entertain my thoughts. I'm becoming so turned on with Dick in my lap, that I have no choice but to close my eyes and think of my uncle Philip. There's no bigger turn off in this world than that monster.

  
Not soon after, Alfred enters the room with Dick's dinner. At first, Dick refused to eat, too full on misery to be hungry for food. I insist that he eats though, because I know that it will make him feel better. Dick doesn't fight me on this, too exhausted to argue. He'll get used to doing whatever I tell him to do. After all, I will be his official guardian in just a matter of days, and that means that I'm the only one who knows what's best for him.

  
By the time Dick is finished eating, he's yawning and is barely managing to keep his eyes open. It's late, and Dick has tired himself out from all of the crying he's done. I pull out a pair of soft pajamas for him, and he changes in the bathroom.

  
I wait on his bed for him, my eyes closed as I imagine Dick stripping himself of his leotard, and changing into the pajamas that I've picked out especially for him. It's all too easy for me to picture his tiny dick and tight ass. It's so easy for me to imagine what it would be like to wrap my hands around his little penis and jerk him off, Dick whimpering and begging for his release.

  
I barely notice when Dick comes back out of the bathroom, shivering with silent tears falling down his face. I open my arms out to him, and Dick doesn't hesitate for a moment before running into them. I tuck him into bed, pulling the blankets over him. I brush my hands against his waist, tempted to do more. I think about slipping my hands under his shirt, covering his body with licks and kisses. My fingers twitch to act on my thoughts.

  
"Bruce?" Dick asks in a near whisper. I shake myself out of my thoughts, reminding myself to stay in the moment. I have to stay in control of my thoughts. I can't keep imagining Dick naked all the time. I'll drive myself insane. I need to keep it together. Only a couple of more years, and then I can do whatever I want to him. It's only a couple of years. I can wait until then.

  
"Sorry, I was distracted for a second," I explain. Dick looks up at me with curious and trustful eyes. Of course he trusts me already. I've given him no reason not to.

  
"It's okay," Dick says in a gentle voice. I smile at him before leaning down to kiss his forehead. My lips linger there for only a moment before pulling away. Patience, I tell myself. It's all about being patient.

  
I comb my fingers through his thick hair, Dick closing his eyes at my touch. For half a second, he almost looks like he's at peace, like he's forgotten about all the awful things that have happened today. But then that crushed expression is back on his face, and I know that no matter how much Dick might want to forget about what happened today, he never will. I know what that's like.

  
"Good night, Dick. Tomorrow will be better. You'll see," I say, touching his cheek with the back of my hand. It's the same exact thing Alfred said to me the night my parents died. Except Alfred was wrong. Things only got worse for me after that night, but my situation was different from Dick's. I didn't have someone who loved me the way I love Dick.

  
I turn off the light, the room shrouded in darkness. I can hear Dick sniffling, but there's nothing I can do about that. There's no way I can get Dick to stop crying. He'll stop on his own, eventually.

  
I leave Dick in his bed and close the door behind me. I would love nothing more than to stay in that bed with him, wrap Dick in my arms and kiss the pain away. Eventually, Dick will realize how happy he is here with me. These things take time, and I'm willing to wait as long as it takes.

 

  
********************

 

  
I spend hours in my own bed later that night, waiting for sleep to take me. But I can't sleep; my mind is too awake with thoughts of Dick. I think about how he's just down the hall, only a few steps away. I can slip into his bed so easily, I can make love to him the same way I do in my dreams. What I would give right now to have him in my arms, to have his body pressed against mine.

  
My cock hardens at the mere thought of Dick beside me, and I sigh loudly. I've already jerked off several times tonight, images of Dick swimming through my head. I like to pretend that it's his small, adolescent hand around my dick, instead of my large, mature one. I like to imagine his body underneath mine, me thrusting into him as Dick begs for more. God, I wish these thoughts were real. I can't wait until they are.

  
I'm just about to lower my boxers and start the process all over again, when I hear my door creaking open. I look over my shoulder, happily surprised by the intrusion. I already know who it is. There's only one person it could be.

  
I can just make out Dick's small shadow of a figure, watching me hesitantly from the doorway. I can see how his entire body shakes, and I can hear the hiccups and sniffles. My heart breaks for him, but at the same time, I'm overjoyed at his presence. How ironic it is that I was wishing to be with him, and then he appears at my doorway. It's almost as if Dick could feel me yearning for him.

  
"Bruce? Are you awake?" He asks in a small and frightened voice, as if he's scared that I'll send him away. I'll never send Dick away though, not in a million years.

  
"What's wrong, Dick?" I ask in a sleepy voice. I roll over so I can see him more clearly. Dick awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, afraid to take another step into the room without my permission.

  
"I-I can't sleep. Can I sleep in here with you? Just for tonight, I swear," Dick asks, his tone desperate. I can hear the tears in his voice, and my heartbeat speeds up at his question. I have to stop myself from grinning.

  
"Of course you can," I answer without hesitation, because how else can I possibly answer a question like that? Dick's tense body relaxes with relief.

  
I would never say no to Dick wanting to sleep with me, even if we didn't do anything but sleep. I love Dick more than anyone, and I would do anything with him.

  
Dick immediately jumps into my bed, tucking himself under the blankets and snuggling up to me. It's surprising how easily Dick cuddles up to me, rolling into a ball and pressing against my front. I curl up against him, wrapping my body around his. Slowly, Dick uncurls from his ball, nuzzling my neck.

  
I smile to myself, pleased to see how quickly Dick is coming to trust me. It makes sense though. Dick and I made an instant connection the moment we met. Right from the start, Dick knew there was something different about me. He knew I wasn't like anyone else he's ever met. Deep inside, he knew I loved him, and that I would always take care of him.

  
With his body against mine the way it is, it would be easy to take him right here. It would be almost too easy to kiss his lips, and strip him of his clothes, until Dick is nothing but bare and wanting. But I'm not going to do that. Not tonight, at least. Tonight is about being together. It's about finding comfort and safety within each other. Tonight is about being a little less lonely. With Dick tucked against me, I can honestly say that I don't feel lonely at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want everyone to know that I don't approve of the kind of relationship Dick and Bruce have in this story. I don't think it's healthy, and that issue will be addressed more as the story continues.


	31. The Apartment

“Don't give me that look. It's not like I had much of a choice,” Bruce says, glaring down at me. I turn my face away from him, studying the elevator doors instead. I can hear Bruce take out his phone and start tapping away. I have to press my lips together to stop myself from complaining. My arms are crossed over my chest in an act of defiance, and if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here at all.

  
Bruce doesn't understand why I'm angry. For someone who says they understand how I’m feeling about the whole married thing, he doesn't really seem to understand at all. It makes me think he was lying when he said he knew how I felt. Maybe he only said all of that to make me feel better. Maybe he just wanted to come across as a compassionate person. Is Bruce even a compassionate person?

  
Of course he is. I feel ashamed for even thinking that he might not be. Bruce is a good, caring person, and I need to stop questioning that. I'm the selfish, thoughtless one. Only spoiled, self-centered people think badly about the people who love them.

  
"I don't want to spend time with your wife," I say with disgust. I spit out the word "wife" like it's a curse word, because that's how it feels. Bruce being married to anyone who isn't me feels like a curse.

  
My whole body freezes at this thought. Now I'm starting to sound as possessive as Bruce.

  
"She's not as bad as you think she is. Besides, you like Helena, and she clearly adores you," Bruce says, paying more attention to his phone than he is to me. I look down at the floor, thinking that Bruce might have a point. While I might not like Selina, Helena didn't do anything wrong. It's not her fault she's the result of a secret marriage. She really is a kind, happy girl. I wouldn't mind seeing her again. Helena brings a little happiness to my mostly miserable life.

  
The elevator doors open with a ding, and I follow Bruce down the hall. I watch as Bruce struggles with his crutches, my body ready to try and catch him if he falls. I offered to help Bruce when we first stepped out of the car, but he just waved me off. Typical Bruce; likes to help others, but will never accept help himself.

  
Everything about this apartment building looks expensive, even the hallways. Bruce explains that the rug we're walking on is made out of pure silk, and was imported from central Persia. Apparently, it's one of the most expensive rugs to ever be sold. Okay, so I knew this was a fancy apartment building the moment I first saw laid on eyes on it. What with it's large glass windows and the air smelling like vanilla, but I didn't think it was that fancy.

  
Bruce tells me that it's one of the most expensive apartment buildings on the East Coast. I shouldn't be surprised to hear this. Of course the wife of Bruce Wayne would get the royal treatment.

  
Bruce stops in front of the last door, hesitating before knocking. He glances back at me, and sighs loudly when he sees my disgruntled expression. He runs an exhausted hand over his face.

  
"Look, I know you're upset about this, but I don't have much of a choice. I can't let you stay home alone. It's only a couple of hours. The doctor shouldn't take that long," he tells me. I stare at Bruce's drained and tired face, and suddenly, all I feel is guilt. My arms drop to my sides, my face falling. I've been so hard on Bruce because of the whole marriage thing, and I'm starting to wonder if it's even worth it. I only seem to be making things harder for Bruce, and he doesn't need that right now. Not after everything that's happened with the car accident.

  
Me being angry at Bruce isn't going to make anything better. I can't change the fact that Bruce is married. The only thing I can do is remind myself that Bruce loves me the most, and one day, we will be married instead. I don't know how that's going to work with Selina still being in the picture, but I trust Bruce to work it out. I have to trust him. I don't have any other choice.

  
"It's fine," I mumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. It's still not totally fine, but saying that won't help the situation. I've already caused so many problems for Bruce as it is, my feelings don't need to go and cause more.

  
"Okay, good," Bruce sighs, looking relieved. He turns back to the door, but then turns back to face me, like he just remembered something, "And you remember what not to talk about, right?"

  
I nod in response, and Bruce smiles with satisfaction. Selina doesn't realize how close Bruce and I really are, and Bruce intends to keep it that way. He told me so this morning at breakfast. I was expecting as much. I can't imagine Bruce's wife being okay with the fact that he's fucking his ward.

  
I understand the importance of keeping our relationship our secret, but I don't like the way the secret makes me feel. Doing what I'm doing with a married man makes me feel so...dirty. I already feel guilty for having sex with Bruce, but when you factor in a wife, it just makes the whole act seem that much more sinful. I feel like I'm the mistress, and that makes me feel even worse about myself. It makes me feel like a bad person. How am I supposed to look Selina in the face and act like everything's normal, when her husband is fucking me behind her back?How does someone live like that?

  
Bruce knocks, and I can hear the sound of small feet running towards us on the other side of the door. A child yells, "Daddy's here!"

  
"Don't answer it, Helena. I'll get it," someone else shouts. Bruce and I exchange a look, both of us smiling to ourselves. Not a minute later, the door swings open to reveal Selina, with Helena peeking up at us from behind her legs.

  
"You," Selina says in greeting, her eyes only on Bruce. She gives him this smile, and it makes me feel sick. It's not a normal smile that you give to just anyone. The smile Selina's giving Bruce is the kind of smile you only give someone if you're in love with them. In my pockets, my hands clench into fists, as I try to keep my jealousy at bay. Bruce smiles back, his smile just as genuine as hers. I feel the jealousy run through my veins. I press my lips together into a thin line, swallowing down all the words I would love to say.

  
"You," Bruce responds, and I roll my eyes with a loud sigh. Do these two plan on spending all day at the door, flashing each other flirty smiles and communicating in one word sentences? They're so gross.

  
"Daddy! You came!" Helena shouts with glee, hugging Bruce's good leg. I watch her with a smile, almost having forgotten how cute Helena is. Her dark hair is up in a neat bun, and she's wearing a black tank top, and a sparkling tutu. She closes her eyes when she hugs Bruce, a blissed look on her face. It's sweet, how happy seeing Bruce makes her. I wish I was always that happy to see Bruce. Maybe I'd be a little less depressed then.

  
Bruce bends down to kiss her forehead. She opens her eyes, and they land on me. Helena's grin grows, and then she's off of Bruce and throwing herself at me. I catch her in my arms, hugging her just as fiercely as she hugs me.

  
I grin, because there's no better feeling in the world than a child being happy to see you. When Helena hugs me, I feel happy, at peace, loved. Having a toddler hug you is different from having an adult or someone your own age hug you. A child's hug is genuine, it's real. It feels good to know that there's a little girl in this world who is happy to see me. The only person who is ever happy to see me is Bruce.

  
I'm almost sad when Helena lets go, but then Selina's inviting us in, and I forget about the feeling. She steps out of the way so I can enter, but Bruce doesn't follow.

  
"My appointment's in fifteen minutes. Alfred's waiting for me in the car," Bruce says. Even though I knew this was going to happen, I still feel like I'm being abandoned. Bruce might know these people, but I only met them yesterday. I don't know anything about Selina except that she's married to Bruce. While I know that Bruce can't stay, I wish he would.

  
"Do you need me to help you down?" Selina asks as Helena whines in disappointment. Bruce raises an eyebrow at her.

  
"I think I can handle the elevator by myself," Bruce answers, and Selina sighs in exasperation.

  
"Of course you can. What was I thinking?" She says sarcastically. I turn my face away as the two of the them kiss goodbye, both disgusted and hurt, but mostly hurt. Bruce doesn't even spare me a glance before leaving, and that hurts more than him kissing Selina. I watch as Selina closes the door behind him.

  
I can't believe he didn't even say goodbye to me. He didn't even look at me! Bruce acted the same way when I met Silver. That night that the three of us went out to dinner, Bruce paid more attention to her then he did to me, and he's doing the same thing now with Selina. Bruce says he loves me the most, but it sure doesn't look that way. It's pretty clear to me that he loves Selina more, or at least he feels like she's more worthy of his attention. She probably is though. Selina's perfect, and I am anything but.

  
I wrap my arms around torso, looking around at the apartment. It's not as big as I had imagined it to be, but the place still screams money. The walls are cream colored, the floors a shiny black wood, the furniture minimalistic, and everything seems to be in the colors black or white.

 

The apartment is very open, so you can see almost everything from where I stand. There aren't many walls, but instead a lot of tall, white columns. There's a small room to the left that's all glass walls and filled with overstuffed shelves of books. Theres a wide, flat screen TV, a black velvet couch, and large windows so the sunlight can shine through. There's a couple of doors which I assume lead to the bedrooms. The kitchen is small, but equipped with what I think is all of the latest cooking supplies.

  
It's a nice apartment, and it practically smells like money. It's a far cry from the dark and mysterious Wayne Manor. But it doesn't look like a child lives here. There are no toys lying around, and everything is so neat and organized. They must have a really good maid or something.

  
"You're home is beautiful," I say after a long moment. Selina turns away from the door to stand next to me, crossing her arms as her eyes search the apartment. She looks unimpressed with it.

  
"Thank you, but I can't take the credit for it. Donna does all the cleaning. I mostly just live here," Selina says, brushing off my compliment.

  
I give her a curious look, wondering what Selina does with all her free time. I don't think she works. Bruce didn't mention her having a job. Why would she have to work when she's married to a multibillionaire? Looking at Selina makes me ask myself, will this be me one day? Will I be the kind of husband that stays at home and does nothing all day? I think I already do that, though. I don't even know if I want to be that kind of person, but I don't think what I want really matters all that much.

  
Helena tugs on my arm, bouncing excitedly, and grinning up at me.

  
"Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick! I'm a ballerina!" She squeals, her eyes squinting from happiness. I smile down at her fondly, the depressing thoughts in my head melting away.

  
"I know, and you're such a pretty ballerina," I tell her. Helena beams up at me, her grin widening.

  
"Helena, are you going to show Dick what you learned today in ballet? I'm sure he'd like to see you dance," Selina urges.

  
"You take dance classes? That's so cool! I'd love to see you dance," I say, feigning excitement. Helena smiles bashfully, her cheeks blushing red. It only makes my smile bigger. I don't know when the last time it was that I saw something as innocent and as sweet as Helena. She's a breathe of fresh air in my otherwise dark and gloomy life.

  
Selina and I settle down on the velvet couch as Helena dances for us. She doesn't do much else but twirl in circles, her arms raised high above her. She is only three, after all. Helena smiles the entire time, giggling when she becomes too dizzy from twirling and falls. I laugh with her.

  
"Everything's spinning," she tells us, trying to get back on her feet. She falls again, her eyes big and her expression dazed. Laughter fills the room. It sounds so strange to the sound of my laugh. I'm not used to it. Back in Haly's Circus, I used to laugh all the time, but I haven't had much reason to since. I didn't think I was capable of laughing anymore.

  
A black cat with green eyes comes slinking into the room, watching the three of us with a suspicious look. This must be one of the three cats Helena was telling me about yesterday. Selina looks over at the cat and smiles. She looks at the cat as if it's a second child.

  
"POLLY!" Helena shouts with glee when she sees her. She runs over to Polly, scoops her up in her arms, and hugs her tightly. Polly meows angrily, as if protesting against the embrace. The cat looks annoyed at being picked up, but Helena is oblivious to this. She's too thrilled about having Polly in her arms.

  
"Look Dick, it's Polly! Polly, Princess, and Penny like to stay in Mommy's room. They love Mommy. Say hi, Polly," Helena says, coming over to me so I can get a better look at the cat. I almost start laughing again, because Polly looks so pissed off at being held. I glance over at Selina, who doesn't seem half as entertained as I am. She must see this kind of thing everyday.

  
"Hi, Polly," I say, waving to the cat. Polly just glares at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. I've never been much of a cat person. In Haly's Circus, the only cats we had were the tigers and lions, and Mom and Dad never let me get too close to them. It never made much sense to me. I mean, they let me swing through the air without a net to catch me, but they didn't want me to get too close to the tigers and lions? Adults are so weird.

  
"Honey, put Polly down. You know she doesn't like to be held," Selina scolds. I watch as Polly struggles to get out of Helena's arms, her meows sounding like complaints. Helena places the cat gently on the floor, and Polly instantly jumps onto the couch and settles down next to Selina.

  
I tap my hands against my thighs, looking around the apartment, suddenly feeling very awkward. While Helena does make me smile, I wish I was back home in the manor. Sometimes I feel like the manor is a prison, but I'd still rather be there. At least I know that place, and I know the people who live there. I know what to expect in the manor. Being here with Selina and Helena though? It puts me on edge. I don't know this place and I don't really know these people. It makes me uncomfortable and anxious. It makes me miss home, and it makes me miss Bruce.

  
"Bruce said you guys met when you were fifteen?" I say, shyly looking up at Selina. Helena starts twirling again, unaware of the conversation. Selina watches Polly with adoring eyes, petting her delicately. She doesn't even look at me when she answers.

  
"Hmm, yes," she answers, a small smile coming to her face. Selina looks from the cat to me. Her eyes are distant, as if she's reliving an old memory. I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't.

  
"So...how did you two meet? Bruce didn't give me much details. He just said that you come from a very different background," I press on. Selina's smile grows, her eyes twinkling.

  
"I broke into his home," she says casually. My eyes widen at her words, my jaw dropping. Who would have the nerve to break into Wayne Manor? Everyone in Gotham City knows who the manor belongs to, and no one would ever dare try to steal from it. Trying to steal from Bruce Wayne is like trying to steal from the president.

  
At least, I imagine it is. I've seen President Luthor on the news, and he looks just as scary as Bruce. Bald people always looks more intimidating than people with hair. I mean, can you just imagine how much scarier Bruce would look if he was bald?

  
"Did you take anything?" I ask. Selina shrugs in response.

  
"Not that time I didn't, but it's only because he caught me. I had been there several time before, and apparently, Bruce had noticed that things were going missing. He did not appreciate me taking his mother's jewelry," Selina says, lifting an eyebrow at me.

  
I have to admit, I'm kind of impressed. Not just anyone could get past the manor's high tech security. And not just once, but several times too! She must be really smart, and a really good thief.

  
Although, the fact that she was a thief at some point does raise some uncomfortable questions. Like, did Selina just marry Bruce for his money? Does she really love him at all?

  
I feel the anger flare up inside me at the thought. Bruce is always going on about how hard it is for us to trust people because of how much money he has, but what about Selina? How does Bruce know for sure that she's not only after his money?

  
Bruce is the most important person in my life, he's all I have, and that means I don't want to see him get hurt. I won't let Selina hurt Bruce. No one will get away with hurting Bruce. Not if I have something to say about it. I'll admit, I probably don't have the power to stop someone from hurting Bruce, but I sure can try.

  
"What happened then?" I ask. I clench a fist, stuffing my hand under my thigh so Selina won't see it. I try to keep my expression calm and relaxed. I need to hear the whole story of how Bruce and Selina met, and then I could decide if she's just using him for his money or not.

  
"We got into a fight. There was a lot of tackling, some punches. Oh, and I tried to scratch his eyes out!" Selina says with a slight smile, her eyes lighting up.

  
I give her a puzzled look, thinking that there's a lot more to Selina than meets the eye. I can't imagine anyone getting into a fight with Bruce, and living to tell the tale. His uncle Philip barely did. There's not a lot of people who would fight Bruce. It takes some serious guts to stand up to him. He's intimidating, and big, and scary. I don't think I could ever hold my own against Bruce, no matter how old or big I get. I don't know how Selina was able to do it.

  
"I know, it sounds crazy, but it was kinda fun," Selina says, "Bruce wasn't afraid of me. He really held his own, too. Of course, I was able to get away before he had the chance to call the cops, and I thought that was the end of it. I figured Bruce was just going to be that teenage billionaire that I got into a fight with once."

  
"But...?" I say, waiting for the story to continue. Selina's smile turns into a smirk.

  
"But I underestimated Bruce. Somehow, I'm guessing during our fight, he bugged me, and was then able to track me down. Found where I was staying at the time, and said he would call the cops if I didn't return the things I had stolen. So I gave him back his mom's jewelry, and that was that." She says with a shrug.

  
I'm quiet for a few moments as I mull over Selina's story. I shouldn't think badly of her because she used to be a thief. I still don't know her whole story. I only know how she met Bruce. Maybe she had a good reason for stealing. Maybe Selina had no other choice. I don't know if I can ask her that, though. I think it might sound a little rude.

  
Besides, I love Robin Hood, and he was a thief. Of course, he did steal to give to the poor, but maybe Selina herself was poor. That's what it sounds like, at least.

  
"Mommy, can I watch The Lion King?" Helena asks, placing her tiny hands on Selina's knees. I look over at Helena, having forgotten that she was even here.

  
"Sure, sweetheart," Selina says. Helena grins, starting to dance around again in excitement.

  
"Lion King, Lion King, Lion King..." She chants, and I can't help but smile while watching her. She's just a little ball of sunshine. The smallest things make Helena happy. I used to be that way too. I hope what happened to me never happens to Helena. I hope she lives a long life with her parents, and I hope when she's a teenager she still dances and twirls around the room. I hope life doesn't change her for the worst.

  
"It's strange, Dick," Selina says as she stands to find the DVD. She looks over her shoulder at me, a knowing look in her eyes, "How things end up working out. Who would have thought that when Bruce and I met you at Haly's Circus all those years ago, you would one day become his ward? Strange how that happened, right?"

  
I try to give her some sort of answer, but my voice catches in my throat. My heart skips a beat, and I look at Selina in confusion for a long few seconds. I have no idea what she's talking about, and yet Selina's looking at me like I should know. She's giving me this mischievous smile, as if there's a secret that I just don't know. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

  
The first time Bruce and I ever met was on the Night That Changed Everything. We had never met before that. If we had, I'm sure Bruce would have told me about it. Why wouldn't he? So why does Selina think that she's met me at Haly's Circus? The first time I ever laid eyes on Selina was yesterday in the hospital. Is it possible that Selina and I had met at Haly's Circus before, and I was too young at the time to remember it? She can't be lying. It would be a pointless lie to tell.

  
I don't know. It's all too confusing. I have to ask Bruce about this myself. If Bruce had met me before the Night That Changed Everything, why wouldn't he tell me about it? What is he trying to hide? If anything of what Selina is saying is true, then I agree with her. Bruce later adopting me as his ward is a really weird coincidence. A little too weird, maybe.

  
"Yeah, that is strange." 

Huh.


	32. Truths And Lies

It isn't until the climax of the movie that there's a knock on the door. I look over my shoulder from the couch, watching as Selina opens the door. Helena is sitting in my lap, too absorbed in the movie to notice anything else.

  
"Bruce," Selina says in greeting when she opens the door. I can only slightly see him standing behind her. My body screams at me to go to him, to push Helena off of my lap and run straight into his arms, but I don't. I missed Bruce. I don't think he was gone for even two hours, but I still missed him.

  
"Selina," Bruce responds calmly. She moves out of the way so Bruce can wobble in, and that's when Helena notices him.

  
"Daddy, you're back," Helena says in an almost hushed tone. She crawls off of my lap and runs towards her father. That's when I notice that he's now wearing a bulky, black cast on his foot that strongly resembles a boot. It also looks like the cast makes it easier for him to walk.

  
"What did the doctor say?" Selina asks, but Bruce isn't looking at her. His eyes are on me, his expression cautious, as if afraid of what Selina and Helena might have told me while he was away. It makes me wonder what kind of secrets he's still hiding, because I'm sure that he is.

  
I'm still not sure what to think about Selina telling me that she and Bruce had met me before the Night That Changed Everything. She didn't explain what she meant. Once the movie started, Selina just stood up and left the room. I still can't figure out why Bruce would keep something like this from me, but I'm going to find out why. Maybe Bruce has a good explanation for keeping another secret. He usually does, or maybe he has no reason at all.

  
I fear that he might have kept this a secret to hide something. Something bad. I swallow loudly at the thought.

  
"I'll have to wear the cast for four weeks or so," Bruce says, distracted. I slowly rise from the couch and walk towards him. Selina's eyes go to me, and then back to Bruce.

  
"So, I was thinking that maybe Dick should start joining us for our morning workout," Selina suggests, and both Bruce and I look at her in confusion.

  
I've never heard of Bruce having a morning workout, but it does make sense. He's in perfect shape. I've never seen a man as muscular and as built as Bruce, but I've never really asked myself how he stays that way. I've always known Bruce to be big and strong. I have never given it much more thought than that.

  
Bruce's eyes flicker to mine before settling back on Selina. I can see that he doesn't like this idea, and I wonder why. I think I would like to get back into shape again. I use to work out all the time in Haly's Circus. It was part of being an acrobat. I stopped doing all of those things once Bruce took me in though. I never really asked why. I just figured that part of my life was over.

  
It would be nice to workout and exercise again. It might feel good to stretch and pull my body into all sorts of different positions. It would be like getting a piece of my old life back. I like the idea, but I don't think Bruce likes it. I can tell he hates the idea by the way his top lip curls.

  
"I'll have to think about it," Bruce says hesitantly. He gives me a quick side glance, and Selina's eyebrows furrow.

  
"What's there to think about, Bruce? It'll be good for him," She urges, and Bruce lets out a frustrated sigh. Selina's expression is one of stone, and it's clear to me that she's not changing her mind on this. It's nice to see someone fight for me. It's cool to see someone question Bruce, because no one ever questions Bruce. Most people are too intimidated by Bruce to argue with him.

  
"I'd really like that Bruce," I say, before Bruce can answer. His eyes flash in my direction, his gaze narrowing. I feel myself almost shrink in fear, wishing I hadn't said anything at all. Selina might be able to argue with Bruce without consequences, but I can't. Bruce might tolerate Selina standing up to him for what she believes in, but that's not the case with me. I'm supposed to do what Bruce tells me to do. I'm still a child, after all, and he's my guardian.

  
"I said I'll think about it," he says through his teeth. Selina raises a perplexed eyebrow at him, holding his gaze. It's like they're having an intense, painful staring contest. To my surprise, Bruce looks away first, "We have to go now. I have to get to work."

  
"Alright, I'll see you at dinner then?" Selina sighs, as Bruce leans in to kiss her cheek. It's hard for me to watch him even just kiss her cheek, but at least he's not kissing her on the lips this time. If Bruce only kisses Selina on the cheek, then I could at least try to pretend that they're just good friends or something.

  
"I should be here by 6:30," he tells her. I watch as Bruce says a quick goodbye to an unhappy Helena, promising to see her later. Helena whines for the two of us to stay, and it warms my heart. It feels good to be wanted. It almost makes me want to stay, but at the same time, I still miss the familiarity of the manor.

  
"Hey, I have an idea," I say as a Bruce leads me to the front door. Bruce stops at my words, his face unenthusiastic. "Selina and Helena should come over for my birthday tomorrow."

  
Helena gasps, smacking her mouth in happy surprise, before bursting out into song, "Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday-"

  
"Helena!" Bruce interrupts viciously, giving Helena a threatening look. Helena quiets down immediately, looking down at the floor with tears swimming in her eyes. My heart goes out to her, because I know how she feels. I've been in her place too many times to count.

  
Bruce's angry face softens when he sees a tear fall down his daughter's face. He runs a hand through his hair as Helena sniffles and Selina glares at him.

  
"Daddy didn't mean that, honey. He's just having a rough day," Selina consoles her, getting down on her knees and rubbing Helena's back.

  
"Your mother is right. Come here," Bruce says gently. Helena timidly steps closer to him, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Bruce catches her face in his hands, kissing her on the cheek.

  
I watch as the two parents comfort their child, thinking that they make a pretty picture. I feel awkward standing here and watching them, but I also feel isolated, like I don't belong. Bruce has the perfect family with them. He has no need for me.

  
"I have to go now, but I'll see you later, alright?" Bruce says once Helena has calmed down. Helena nods, giving Bruce a tight hug. I follow Bruce to the front door, watching Helena carefully. The way Bruce scared her and then comforted her, it reminds me of the way he treats me sometimes. I think Helena and I have a lot more in common then I originally thought.

  
I'm so busy thinking about what just happened, that it isn't until we're in the car that I realize Bruce never even said anything about my idea to celebrate my birthday with Selina and Helena. It's like he just pretended that I hadn't said anything at all.

  
I almost bring it up right there in the car, but then I realize that maybe being with them on my birthday isn't such a great idea. Sure, I would like to have Helena there, but I don't think I would want Selina there. Helena might make me happy, but Selina still makes me feel kind of miserable. She seems nice enough, but she's married to Bruce. Every time I see her, I'm just reminded of that fact, and that hurts too much.

  
What I really want to talk about with Bruce is what Selina had mentioned earlier. I need to know if it's true that Bruce and I had met before the Night That Changed Everything. Selina has given me no reason not to believe her, so the only question that remains is why has Bruce kept this from me? I want to ask him about it right here in the car, but I'm afraid to. I'm scared of the answer he might give me.

  
Besides, he looks busy with his phone. We can talk about it later, after I've gathered the courage.

  
I wish things could go back to the way they were before. I feel awful for thinking it, but I wish Selina and Helena didn't exist. Things were easier without them in my life, less complicated. There were less secrets.

  
Guilt weighs heavy in my heart at these thoughts. I spend the entire ride home telling myself that I'm an awful, terrible person for ever thinking something so wrong and cruel.

 

 

************************

 

  
It isn't until late at night that Bruce finally comes home from work. I try to tell myself that he's coming home so late because he works so hard, but I know that isn't the case. I know that he hasn't spent all afternoon and evening in the office, and I know he hasn't been spending his time with some random, beautiful socialite either. He's been with Selina and Helena. Probably gathered around the dinner table, laughing and making good, pure family memories.

  
My chest aches with pain at the thought. I want Bruce to be happy, truly I do, but I guess I always figured he was happy with me. I realize now how stupid of me it was to think that way. I mean, come on, I'm me! How can anyone ever find happiness with me? I'm a depressed, lonely human being. No one wants to be around someone like that. I don't even want to be around someone like that. I almost can't blame Bruce for having a secret family.

  
I approach his bedroom slowly, quietly placing my hand on the door. It's slightly open, and I can only just see Bruce laying on the bed, reading a book. The black cast he was wearing earlier today is laying beside him, and his exposed foot rests on a pile of pillows. For the first time, I see how black and blue his foot is, and it's kind of disgusting. It really does look like it was ran over by a car. I crinkle my nose and gag in disgust.

  
I think I'm being quiet, but apparently, not quiet enough. Bruce's head turns in my direction, his eyes meeting mine, and I instantly take a step back into the shadows of the hallway. I don't want him to see me, because then he's going to invite me in, and I know that being alone with Bruce in a bedroom only ever leads to one thing.

  
I don't want to have sex with Bruce. I don't like the way it makes me feel. While I did enjoy the sex last night more than I ever have, I still felt awful about it afterwards. I've always felt like having sex with Bruce was wrong, but it's so much worse now. Bruce is married, so when he and I do anything that's even remotely sexual, it kinda makes me feel...well, like a slut. And I don't want to feel like that at all, even if it's true.

  
"Well, are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there and pretend that I can't see you?" Bruce says, his eyes back on his book. My whole body freezes at his question, because there's no way out of this now. I thought for half a second that maybe I can still slip away without Bruce noticing, but of course I was wrong. Bruce notices everything.

  
I slowly step into the room, opening the door just slightly so I can slip through. I breath in and out, trying to calm myself. Bruce gives me a quick glance, an eyebrow raised. I lick my lips as I step farther into the room.

  
"Dick, is there something you need to say to me?" Bruce asks, putting his book down on his lap. My hands begin to shake with nerves, so I shove them in my pockets. I hope that Bruce can't see how anxious how I am, but I know he can.

  
"Uh, yes. It's about something that happened earlier. At Selina's," I start. Bruce sighs loudly and rolls his eyes, like he's annoyed that I brought Selina up.

  
"Selina isn't the easiest person to get along with, so if she said something that upset you, don't take it-"

  
"No, it's not that," I interrupt without thinking, and Bruce gives me a hard, disapproving look. I mutter an apology, because I know it was wrong of me to interrupt. Bruce deserves all of my attention and respect. I owe him my life.

  
"She mentioned something, and I couldn't figure it out," I start over, "She said that we had met before at Haly's Circus. When I was much younger. You know, before that night. Is that true?"

  
Bruce stiffens, but he remains expressionless. He steadily watches me, and it feels like forever before he answers me. My body sings with nerves. I start to chew on my lower lip. I know it's only a few seconds of silence, but the quiet seems to drag on forever. I become more and more antsy as the moments tick by.

  
"I don't know why Selina said that. I had never even been to Haly's Circus before that night of the accident," Bruce says, his tone curious. His forehead crinkles in confusion, and my whole body relaxes at his words.

  
I sigh in relief. I haven't even realized until now just how much I wanted Selina to be lying. I don't like to think about what it might mean if she was telling the truth. Because if Bruce had met me before the Night That Changed Everything? Well, that's just too weird of coincidence. Maybe it wouldn't be a coincidence at all, but I don't have to worry about that now. Selina wasn't telling me the truth. For some reason, she lied to me, but why would she lie to me?

  
"You look relieved to hear that," Bruce notes, reaching a hand out to me. I step closer to him and take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bruce's skin is warm, and having my hand in his makes me feel protected and cared for.

  
For a moment back there, I actually thought Bruce might have done something in the past to hurt me, but Bruce would never intentionally hurt me, right? I mean, I know he hasn't always made the best decisions, but he's always tried to do what's best for me. He's not a monster. I used to think he was, but I know better now. Bruce loves me. Everything he does is for my benefit.

  
I can't even entertain the thought that he might have done something in the past to hurt me. I can't think that the one person I love in this world might be a murderer. That cannot be true! That's crazy!

  
"I am, but why would Selina lie to me like that? It doesn't make any sense," I ask. Bruce tugs on my hand, and I lay down next to him on the bed. I curl up beside him, Bruce's arm wrapped around me. I rest my head on his chest, comforted by the sound of Bruce's steady heartbeat.

  
"Selina likes to mess with people sometimes. I'll talk to her. It won't happen again," he answers. I press my lips together, wondering why Selina would intentionally mess with me like that. Is it her way of being friendly, or does she not like me? I thought we were getting along fine. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't like me. I don't really like me either.

  
"Bruce, about what Selina said earlier. About the exercise thing? I'd really like-"

  
Bruce shushes me, cutting me off mid-sentence. I was about to tell him that I'd like to start working out again, that I think it would be good for me. Maybe it would even make me feel better about myself, but Bruce doesn't want to hear me talk anymore.

  
He only tips my chin upwards, pressing his lips against my own. The kiss starts off slow, methodical, before it deepens into something much more messy, Bruce's lips hard against mine.

  
I want to continue our conversation, I want to say my part, but that isn't what Bruce wants. He wants me to be quiet, to be silent as I follow his every command. I might not want to do that, but I will. It's the only way I know how to live.

  
There is so much I want to say, but as Bruce slides a hand under my shirt and over my skin, I realize that I won't be able to say any of it. It's clear that Bruce has different ideas about what's happening tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like nothing important happened in this chapter, and yet, its still important to the story.


	33. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want you guys to think I'm not working on this story. Some chapters might take longer to write than others, but that doesn't mean I've given up on this fic. I honestly work on this story everyday. I hope you like this chapter. It was a hard one.

I wake up the next morning expecting some sort of birthday surprise. On all of my past birthdays, Bruce has either woken me up with a cupcake or a small gift. On this particular morning, I wake up to an empty bed and silence.

  
I rub the sleepiness out of my eyes, blinking at the bedroom in confusion. I know it's my birthday, but it doesn't feel like it is. I'm alone in bed, and no one is here to welcome me into the day. I shiver, pulling the blankets tighter around me. It feels awful to wake up on my birthday alone. It feels wrong. I've gotten so used to Bruce waking me up on my birthday, that I've begun to expect it. It makes me that much more disappointed to wake up to no one.

  
I roll out of bed and drag my feet across the floor to the door. I don't bother taking a shower and getting dressed before going down for breakfast. I'm too impatient. I want to see Bruce, and be reassured that today is going to be a good birthday. Or, at least, it's going to be as good as it can be, considering the circumstances.

  
I expect to see Bruce sitting at the dining room table, coffee and phone in hand, but he's not there. My whole body sags in disappointment when I enter the empty dining room. The seat that Bruce usually sits in is unoccupied. The only thing on the table is a platter of Belgian waffles and bacon, a bowl of strawberries, and an empty plate.

  
I don't understand what's going on. Bruce always has breakfast with me. No matter what, he's always sitting in that same spot, a cup of coffee by his side. Sometimes he wakes up beside me in bed, but most of the time, he's waiting at the dining room table. Either way, Bruce is always here. So where is he now? Why has he abandoned me today, on my birthday?

  
I sit down at my usual seat, using a fork to slide one of the Belgian waffles onto my empty plate. I add some strawberries and bacon to the sides. I smear on the small amount of butter Alfred has left for me, but I'm not paying much attention to what I'm doing. My mind is too preoccupied with other things, like trying to figure out where Bruce might be.

  
I stare hard at the pile of untouched waffles, wondering why Alfred made so many. I'm clearly the only person who's eating them today, so what was the point? I look away from the plates of food, because it's only causing me to feel more depressed.

  
I didn't know this was possible, but it feels like my heart's crying. I miss Bruce. I feel like I spend most of my time missing him, but I can't help it. He's not here with me, and he's always here with me. And it's not like it's just any normal day today. It's my birthday. This day is always so hard for me, and I need someone here to remind me that I'm not alone. I don't think I've ever felt so alone on my birthday before.

  
I eat without tasting, tears clouding my eyes and making it hard to see. I don't know where anyone is, and I feel so miserable. It's my birthday today, and my parents aren't here to see it. They'll never see another birthday ever again. They fell to their deaths, and I watched them fall. I sat there, watched them die, and did nothing to stop it. But what could I have done to help them? Nothing. I was helpless in that moment. I'm still helpless now.

  
I put my fork down halfway through my meal, my stomach hurting too much to eat anymore. Maybe I'm getting sick? No, I'm just too sad to eat. I have no one today. Not even Bruce. I could die right here, and I don't think anyone would even notice. Would anyone care if I was gone? If I ran away, out of Gotham City and somewhere far away from here, would anyone care or notice? I don't think Bruce would, not when he already has the perfect family.

  
What if I didn't run away, what if I just died? I don't know how I would do it, but there's a million ways I can kill myself. I can jump in front of moving train, fall down a long staircase, or cut open my wrists and let myself bleed to death. I don't think anyone would mind if I did any of those things. Everyone would be better off without me, anyway.

  
What would happen to me then? What happens to you after you die? Is there really a heaven and hell, or is there just an eternal slumber? I don't know if I want to find out. At least, not yet I don't. It scares me too much.

  
I'm so distracted by my thoughts that I don't even notice Alfred walking into the room.

  
"Master Dick?" He asks, startling me. I jump in my seat, looking up at Alfred's expecting face.

  
"Uh huh?"

  
"Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" He asks, an eyebrow raised. I look back down at my food, barely registering what I'm seeing.

  
"Where's Bruce?" I ask instead, meeting Alfred's eyes. He awkwardly looks away, clearing his throat before answering.

  
"He said he had to go into work early this morning. An emergency meeting, but he will be home later this evening," he says, and my heart sinks. I look down, discouraged at this news.

  
I was really hoping Bruce would be home earlier then that. On all of my past birthdays, Bruce has come home early from work so we can spend more time together. Bruce has always planned something special for my birthday. I will admit, my birthdays with him haven't always been the best, and are tarnished with bad memories, but at least I was never alone. I might have been miserable on past birthdays, but at least I wasn't by myself. Now I'm not only miserable, but I'm lonely too!

  
"Finish your food," Alfred says after a long silence, "You know how important it is to Master Bruce that you eat well."

  
He turns and leaves the way he came.

  
It's so quiet, that it feels as if I am drowning in the silence of the room. I can't focus on eating, or my own thoughts, because I'm too busy being overwhelmed by the silence. The room feels cold and bleak.

  
I want to curl up in a ball in a corner somewhere, and disappear for good. I want to shrivel up into nothing. I want to tear myself out of this skin, and float up and away into the sky. I want to stop existing on this earth.

  
After breakfast, I go back upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day. It's not until I'm in the shower that I let myself cry freely. It's easier to cry in the shower, where you can't tell the difference between your tears and the water spraying down on you. No one can hear you cry in the shower, but it isn't like there's anyone to hear me anyway. It's not like Alfred cares, and I'm not sure Bruce would care either.

  
Alfred and I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon doing schoolwork. I don't pay much attention, though. I go through the motions, but my mind can't focus on the task at hand. I go through the whole day in a daze.

  
Alfred seems to be all too happy when he closes my vocabulary book, announcing that we're done for the day. I don't even respond as he gets up and leaves. I just sit there and stare at the mess of textbooks and notebooks splayed across the table. My hands rest on my lap. I am as still as a statue. My brain tells my body to move, but I can't. I feel too exhausted to move, too tired of everything. I'm so tired all the time, and it's not the kind of tired that sleep can fix.

  
I finally find the strength to get out of the my chair, and drag myself upstairs. I stop in front of my bedroom door, my hand on the doorknob. I was thinking I'd take a long nap in my own bed, but I don't know. I don't think I want to lay in my own bed. My bedroom doesn't even feel like mine. It feels like it belongs to a stranger. I feel like a visitor in it. There's only one bedroom that feels familiar, there's only one bed that feels welcoming to me.

  
I walk past my room, entering Bruce's instead. Without a second thought, I pull back the soft blankets of his bed, and curl up underneath them. With all of his blankets and pillows surrounding me, I can close my eyes and almost pretend that Bruce is here with me. Bruce might hurt me sometimes, but he makes me feel a little less lonely. It almost makes all the pain worth it.  
I wonder why I'm so depressed all the time. What has happened in my life to make me such a sad, miserable human being? Is it the death of my parents, or is it something more than that?

  
I think about Bruce, and how he ruined my eleventh birthday. I remember that day so well. I remember how excited I was when he brought me to the movies, and I remember how happy I felt when we cuddled. How did things end up going so wrong that day?

  
I was so hurt, so confused when Bruce touched me like that for the first time. I didn't understand why he had kissed me, and I didn't understand why he wanted to have sex with me either. Grown adults don't have sex with children. They just...don't. I used to think that wasn't okay. But now? Now I don't know what to think.

  
I have to ask myself that maybe the reason why I'm so depressed has something to do with Bruce. That doesn't make any sense though. Bruce is one of the only things in the world that makes me happy, so how can he also bring me so much sadness?

  
Emotions are hard. They're complicated and messy, and I don't want to have to deal with them. Everything would be easier if I didn't feel anything at all. It's exhausting to think this much, and I'm already so tired.

  
These thoughts continue to run through my head over and over again, like a song stuck on repeat. Even so, it still only takes me a few minutes to fall fast asleep, my fears and misery following me into my dreams.

 

 

**************************

 

  
What wakes me up is a hand touching my face. I feel myself smile. It's such a caring, gentle gesture. I feel loved at the touch, and it's just what I needed. I can hear a familiar breathing pattern, and I can feel the bed shift as someone moves closer to me. I take my time opening my eyes, and when I see his face, my smile grows. Relief washes over me. He's home, he's finally home, and he's with me.

  
"Hey there, birthday boy," Bruce whispers, his lips twitching up into a small smile. His eyes shine with adoration, and I feel myself glow from the attention.

  
"Hi," I answer.

  
The bedroom is dark, the curtains closed, and the only light on is the one on the nightstand. I must have been asleep for hours.

  
I want to be upset with Bruce for ditching me on my birthday, but I can't. I'm too happy to see him here now. At least he came home. That's something, right? At least he still wants to spend time with me.

  
Bruce leans in closer, his forehead pressing against mine. I can feel his breathe against my lips, his eyes so intense that I feel like he's looking into my soul. I can't look away from him. Bruce has me frozen, waiting to see what will happen next.

  
Then his lips are on mine, and the kiss is tender, thoughtful. It's light and chaste, and I lean in closer, desperate to know that there is someone here with me. I need to know that I am not alone.

  
I whimper in protest when Bruce pulls away from the kiss, a soft smile on his face. I close my eyes, pressing my face against his warm neck. I wrap an arm around his broad shoulder, and a leg around his waist. I'm not looking for anything remotely sexual. I'm just looking for comfort. Bruce is finally in my arms again, and I want him to stay. I don't want to be left alone again.

  
"Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me," I murmur against his skin. Bruce runs a hand down my back and up my shirt, the tips of his fingers ticklish against my bare skin.

  
"Never," he says, and it sounds like a promise. I hope it's a promise. I need it to be a promise.

  
I want to hold Bruce forever. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my life, and never move. It feels like time has frozen for us. It feels like the whole world has stopped moving. It's like everything else in the universe has disappeared, and all that's left is me and Bruce.

  
"I have your birthday present," Bruce says, breaking the silence. I slowly pull away from him. My birthday present is the whole reason Bruce got hurt in the first place. If it wasn't for me and my stupid birthday, Bruce wouldn't have had to go to the hospital and I would have never met Selina and Helena. I almost don't want my present. I don't want a constant reminder of how it's my fault Bruce is hurt.

  
I try and fail to smile. Bruce ignores this, looking over his shoulder and rolling over to get something out of the nightstand. I wait patiently as he quietly pulls something small out of the drawer, closes it, and rolls back over to face me. I'm surprised to see a small, velvet box in his hand. The box is too big to fit a ring, but not big enough for something like a necklace. I know it's jewelry though, and that's something Bruce has never given me before. My eyes linger on the black box, curious to know what's inside.

  
"I couldn't do anything special for your birthday. Work was crazy today. I got a call from Lucius early this morning, and I had to go into work early. I was going to wake you up to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, that I couldn't bring myself to wake you up," Bruce's expression softens, and in that moment, he looks so extraordinarily handsome. I mean, Bruce always looks handsome, but right now, he's exceptionally so.

  
I swallow loudly, face hot under his gaze. Bruce caresses my cheek, his fingers as light as a feather. I can't look away, and I wouldn't even if I could. I missed Bruce so much today, but he's here now and he's all I can think about. He presses closer to me, his cheek against mine, pushing the box into my hand.

  
"Open it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. A shiver runs down my spine, giving me goosebumps. Bruce pulls away, giving me room to open the box. My hand shakes as I do, not knowing what to expect.

  
"Bruce," is all I manage to whisper when I see what's inside. I gaze down at the bracelet in awe, Bruce chuckling lightly. Any thoughts I had about not wanting the gift is swept away at the sight of it.

  
It's simple, but beautiful. The bracelet is rose gold, and the matching clasp has one single diamond in the middle. It's gorgeous, but that's not even the best part. It's the inscription on the bracelet that makes my heart soar.

  
It reads,"You are so loved".

  
My lips part at the message, and I run my fingers over the words. I spend so much time doubting Bruce's love, worrying that he doesn't care for me at all, when its so clear from this bracelet that he does. How silly of me to think otherwise. Of course Bruce loves me. He wouldn't keep me around if he didn't.

  
"I thought you'd like it," Bruce comments, and I tear my gaze away from the bracelet to give him a smile. I know it's stupid, but I can feel the tears come to my eyes and begin to spill over. I'm such an emotional mess, but at least I'm crying out of happiness this time. That's a nice change.

  
"It's perfect," I tell him, and Bruce's pleased grin grows, "Help me put it on?"

  
"Sure," he says, before taking the jewelry box back from me. I wipe the tears off my cheeks as Bruce delicately removes the bracelet from the box. I giggle, because it's funny to see Bruce's large hands handle something so small and fragile. The bracelet must have cost Bruce a fortune, and he got it for me. It's not for one of his dumb girlfriends or his wife, but for me. Dick Grayson, his fourteen year old ward.

  
If I'm being honest, though? I would have been just as happy with a cheap, crappy bracelet, as long as it had that same message. But this is good too.

  
Bruce wraps the bracelet around my wrist, locking the clasp into place so that it won't fall off. I turn my hand in every direction, mesmerized by the beautiful simplicity of the bracelet. I still can't believe Bruce got this for me. It's perfect. With everything going on recently, this bracelet is just what I needed. It might be my favorite birthday gift Bruce has ever given me.

  
"It looks even better than I thought it would," Bruce says, and I look up at him with a grin. He's not even looking at the bracelet. His eyes are glued to my face, making me blush. He gives me a half smile in return, and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I lean into his touch.

  
"I love it," I whisper. Bruce seems pleased to hear this.

  
"I know that sometimes you question my love, and I know that you fear I'll abandon you one day. I can't always be here to reassure you of my feelings, but this bracelet can. Whenever you feel alone or unloved, I want you to read this inscription and remember how much I love you," Bruce explains in a low voice.

  
I can feel my throat close up at his words, making it hard to swallow. The tears fall down my cheeks more easily now. Bruce brushes them away, nuzzling his face against mine. I hum at the attention, those awful thoughts I had earlier in the day melting away into nothingness.

  
I can't even remember what I was so upset about before. I'm just so excited to have this bracelet, a symbol of Bruce's love for me. I know Bruce says the bruises on my body are a symbol of his love too, but I much prefer this. I'm never going to take it off. Ever.

  
Bruce's lips skim my cheek, stopping when he reaches my mouth. He kisses the corner of my mouth first, his lips soft and gentle. Any thought of the bracelet slips from my mind as Bruce covers my mouth with his own in a gentle kiss. As the kiss begins to deepen, I wrap my arms tightly around him. As our tongues touch, Bruce moans, and my whole body tingles.

  
Bruce pulls away to catch his breathe, giving us the chance to cuddle more. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, sighing in content. I don't want to kiss, or have sex, or do any of those other things that Bruce likes doing so much. I just want to lay in this bed with Bruce and snuggle. And fortunately for me, Bruce seems to be okay with that.

  
I am so very much loved. I might have spent most of my birthday by myself, but Bruce is here with me now. He can't be with me every moment of every day, so I'll take what I can get. Bruce loves me, I love him, and that's all that matters.


	34. May

It's funny how time passes. Most of the time, it seems to move so slowly, each second lasting an eternity. Sometimes, I just sit and listen to the ticking of the clock, too tired to move or do anything else. I spend so much of my days thinking about how slow the hours move, that it always takes me by surprise when one month ends and a new one begins.

  
March becomes April, April becomes May, and before I know it, it's the end of the month again. The colds winds of March no longer greet you when you step outside. The air is warm; not too cold that you need a jacket, but still not hot enough to make you sweat. The grass is greener and the flowers begin to bloom on the trees. It makes me long for the outside world. It makes me wish I can leave this dark and dusty manor, and enjoy the fresh air.

  
I haven't left the manor since the day Bruce took me to Selina's apartment, and I've become desperate to feel the warm sun on my face. Most days, I find myself staring out of the nearest window and daydreaming. It usually happens when I'm in the middle of my schoolwork. Alfred can barely stand it.

  
I feel as if nothing has happened in months. Sometimes I think I'll die of boredom. Every day I do the same thing, in the same place, with the same people. I keep thinking Bruce will take me to see Selina and Helena again, but he doesn't. I keep thinking we'll take that trip to the Bahamas soon, but we don't.

  
Bruce's injured foot healed weeks ago. I saw how much he struggled with it, and I always offered to help him, but Bruce always refused any help. There was a lot of simple things he couldn't do for a while that I could easily do for him, like help him put his pants on.

  
He would lay on his back on the bed, and awkwardly try to pull his pants up without hurting his foot. I would sometimes stand there and watch him do it, insisting that he'd let me help him. Then Bruce would snap at me that it's nothing he can't handle by himself.

  
One time, I ignored his objections and tried to help anyway, and that's when Bruce really lost it. He pushed me hard, making me fall and hit my head against the wall. It hurt and I was upset, because Bruce didn't even seem to notice what he had done. I stopped offering my help after that.

  
It wasn't just my help Bruce refused, it was Alfred's too. He wanted to do everything on his own, just like he's always done. Bruce doesn't like having to depend on someone else for things. He doesn't like having to ask for help. Bruce likes to be the person who gives support, who offers the help. He doesn't want to be the person who receives it.

  
Bruce's doctors appointment to get the cast off was in the middle of the work day, but that didn't stop him from coming home right after, demanding to see me. I was sitting at the dining room table doing schoolwork with Alfred, and Bruce had this wild look in his eyes. It scared me. He practically dragged me up the stairs to his room. I had tripped over my own two feet in an effort to keep up with him.

 

As soon as Bruce had slammed the bedroom door closed, he was tearing off his clothes, shouting at me to do the same. I did as he told me without a second thought, too terrified to object.

  
Not even five minutes later, he had me flat on my stomach and naked, painfully pushing into me. Bruce gripped my waist too hard, my face was buried in a pillow. I was barely able to breathe.

  
It hurt so badly, and I cried so loudly, but Bruce didn't stop. For the first time in months, I begged for him to stop, but he wouldn't. I don't think he even heard me. He was wild, thrusting into me at a desperate and urgent pace. It was like he was starving for it.

  
I didn't understand. It's not like it had been months, or even weeks, since we last had sex. We were still having sex every night, except I always had to be on top because of his injury. I guess Bruce just needed to be on top again. Maybe he needed to feel like he was in charge again. As if I was ever the dominant one in our relationship. Like that would ever happen.

  
It was terrible. I remember I had closed my eyes, and tried to pretend that I was anywhere else in the world but there in that bed with Bruce. I tried to pretend that none of it was actually happening, but the pain was too harsh to forget. I didn't even come that day, but Bruce either didn't notice or care. He came in me with a loud groan, and I remember the feeling of his cum dripping down my thighs.

  
He left the manor soon after that, quickly getting dressed and saying that he had to get back to the office. He gave me a pat on the back, and told me that I had done well. I didn't give him any sort of response.

  
I didn't move from my spot on the bed for a long time. I laid there, still on my stomach, naked, and cried. I sobbed into the pillow until it was damp with my boogers and tears. Cum and blood stained the blankets. I knew that if Bruce saw what a mess I had made, he would be upset. I would have to ask Alfred to clean it up for me.

  
I knew I should move. I knew I should go shower and scrub the dirty and shameful feelings away, but I couldn't. I was too upset, too exhausted to move. All I wanted to do was a lay there and cry the pain away. I wanted to forget what had just happened. I wanted to forget every bad thing that's ever happened to me.

  
That was weeks ago though, and it feels like a decade has passed since then. Near the end of May, I finished my schoolwork for the year. That's one of the good things about being homeschooled. You get through your work faster than you would at a normal school. It's because you get to work at your own pace, and a lot of time spent at schools is just wasted time. I don't have to waste my time with things like homeroom and assemblies. I'm grateful for this. No school means I have more time to do things that I actually want to do, like go outside.

  
The first day of summer break, I get dressed as quickly as possible, shove my sneakers on, and run outside. Wayne Manor is a large estate, so there's miles of open land for me to run and practice my gymnastics on. I get to spend hours under the sun, perfecting my flips and twirls just like I used to when I was part of the circus. It's the best thing I could have asked for, given my situation.

  
I go outside everyday after I eat breakfast and get dressed. I only go back inside when Alfred calls me in for lunch and dinner. It's one of my least favorite parts of the day. I want to spend every moment of everyday outside, where I can run through the grassy plains and feel the warm air against my skin.

  
When I first started working on my flips and cartwheels again, I realized just how out of practice I really was. It's been years since I was able to really stretch my limbs, and I had lost some of my flexibility. But day after day, I get a little bit better at it. It isn't long before I'm rolling through the air with ease, and bending my body like a pretzel. I love it. I can feel myself grow stronger everyday, and I just feel so good about myself when I'm outside. I feel like the world isn't that bad, like there might be something worth living for.

  
I hate when Alfred makes me come back inside though. He's always reminding me to take off my dirty shoes at the door, because he just cleaned the floor. He insists that I shower and change every night before dinner, even though I showered that morning. I swear, Alfred still treats me like I'm nine. It's like he doesn't even realize that I'm fourteen now.

  
There's been a few times when Alfred has let me eat outside. I put out a blanket for myself, and then get comfortable on my stomach before diving into my lunch. It's quiet, but in a nice way. I like eating outside. I can look up at the blue sky, and listen to the birds sing to each other in the trees.

  
Today is a particularly hot day, but I don't mind it. I kind of like it actually. I'm sweating as I do a dozen handless cartwheels in a row. It makes me feel like I'm back in Haly's Circus, flying through the air with my parents, the audience cheering. A successful performance had always left me in sweaty mess, but I always felt good about it. I felt like I had achieved something great.

  
I land on my feet, my hands in the air, and my eyes closed. I take a bow for the pretend crowd, imagining my parents on either side of me. I wave to the crowd, a grin on my face. God, I miss those days. I wish they had never end.

  
"Enjoying yourself?" Someone says from behind me, startling me. I open my eyes, and twirl around to see who is responsible for pulling me out of my lovely daydream.

I'm a little surprised to see Bruce standing there in his expensive suit, his hands in his pockets, and his expression one of amusement. I didn't expect Bruce to be home so early. It isn't even dinner time yet.

  
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, embarrassed for being caught playing pretend. I fold my hands behind my back, looking down at the ground and kicking at the grass.

  
"I was just, uh, you know. I was...," I press my lips together, trying to explain what I was just doing without sounding like an idiot. It's not like I can say I was pretending to be an acrobat again, wishing that I could go back to a happier time. I don't think Bruce would take that well.

  
I glance up at him, meeting his expecting gaze. I swallow loudly, wishing that I could just melt into a puddle so that I can avoid this conversation.

  
"You were playing?" Bruce finally asks, and I nod quickly.

  
"Yep, yeah, uh huh. That's what I was doing. I was playing, just like any other kid would. Because that's what I am, I'm a kid. Me, Dick Grayson, just a fourteen year old kid," I ramble nervously, saying whatever comes to my mind. I know I sound stupid, and I tell myself to shut up, but my mouth does not feel like listening to my brain.

  
Bruce watches me, a smile growing on his face. He steps in front of me, and I have to look up to meet his eyes. I feel so small looking up at Bruce like this. Sometimes I forget how intimidating and big he really is. I forget that if Bruce really wanted to, he could kill me with his hands alone. I don't like having those kind of thoughts though. They scare me.

  
Bruce reaches out to push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I shiver at his touch. He chuckles at my reaction.

  
"You're all sweaty," Bruce notes, leaning down to brush his lips against my forehead. I can barely breathe as his other hand cups my cheek, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there. "We need to get you in a bath."

  
I shut my eyes tightly, my hands trembling. I don't like Bruce's suggestive tone. I want to step away from him, but I can't. It feels like my feet are glued to the ground. I was having such a good day, reliving old memories, and then Bruce came home and ruined it.

  
I'm an awful person. I can't believe I'm still having such bad thoughts about Bruce. Bruce is a good person, he's given me so much, and yet I still think terrible things about him. What kind of person am I? How selfish can I be?

  
"W-what are you doing home so early?" I stutter. Bruce takes a step back, running his thumb down my cheek.

  
"I just thought I'd surprise you. Is there a problem with that?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I swallow hard, shaking my head.  
"No!" I say a little too quickly, "Uh, I'm glad you're home."

  
It's not like I'm lying. I do wish that Bruce would come home earlier, because I get lonely so easily. I just wasn't expecting him to be home already, and I was having a good time running around and pretending. I didn't want that to end.

  
"Hmm, me too," Bruce says, watching me with careful eyes. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, stuffing my hands into my pants pockets. Bruce is silent for a moment before continuing, "Walk with me."

  
He puts a hand on my back, leading me to the manor. We walk at a slow pace, and I can tell from the stiff way Bruce is walking that he has something he wants to tell me. I just hope that it's nothing bad.

  
"So I'm going to Metropolis next week," Bruce announces. I'm a little relieved to hear this. This isn't bad news at all. I was afraid that whatever Bruce had to tell me was going to be something awful, but it's not. But this isn't exactly good news either.

  
I don't like the idea of being stuck in the manor for days on end with only Alfred for company. I don't want Bruce to leave me. Yeah, sure, sometimes he scares me and makes me feel bad about myself, but not all the time. There are times when he's really nice and sweet, like when he gave me the bracelet. He loves me, and I don't want to be here without him.

  
"But you never go there. You hate Metropolis," I point out.

  
Whenever anyone mentions Metropolis, Bruce will roll his eyes and mutter curses under his breath. He's never liked Metropolis. He thinks it's too clean and perfect there, and so he doesn't trust it. He doesn't trust the people who live there. They don't have much of a crime problem there, and Bruce thinks that's strange. Metropolis is the total opposite of Gotham City, and Bruce does not like that at all.

  
Personally, I don't know what to make of Metropolis. I've only ever been there once, and that was as part of the circus when I was really little. I can hardly remember it, and it's not like I had a lot of time to tour the city while I was there. I was always too busy practicing for the upcoming show.

  
I think the main problem Bruce has with Metropolis is LexCorp. LexCorp was founded by the U.S. President, Lex Luthor, and from what I've been told, Bruce has never really gotten along with him. Before Luthor had been elected president, Bruce had tried to do business with LexCorp, but Luthor rejected him. Luthor thinks Bruce is a spoiled, rich prick, and Bruce thinks Luthor is an ignorant, self-righteous fascist. He was really angry when Luthor was elected president, announcing that the American government had officially hit rock bottom.

  
So, yeah. The real reason Bruce hates Metropolis is because of LexCorp. Which is why I'm so surprised to hear that he's going there.

  
"Im not going there willingly, Dick. I'm going there to do business. With LexCorp," Bruce explains. I stop in my tracks, my eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  
"You've tried that already. Lex Luthor hates you, and you hate him," I remind him. The hand on my back presses me forward, forcing me to resume walking. We reach the back doors of the manor, Bruce opening the door and letting me enter first.

  
"Yes, but Lex Luthor isn't running LexCorp anymore. He still owns the company, but he has other people running it for him. He's too busy being president to run LexCorp," Bruce says. The hallway is dark, and Bruce slips his hand into mine, leading me through the maze of halls.

  
"So now that someone else is in charge, you think Wayne Enterprises will be able to work with them?" I ask. Bruce turns a corner that leads to the front entrance, moving faster now. I practically have to run to keep up with him.

  
"I know so. We have a contract that's been in the works for months now. I just have to go there to sort out some last few details, and attend a couple of meetings. It's a contract that will benefit both the companies and our respective cities," he continues.

  
I follow Bruce up the stairs, and down the hall to his bedroom. I know what he has in mind for me, and just the thought of it gives me goosebumps. I tell myself not to think about my possibly immediate future, but to think about the present instead.

  
"So what's the contract?" I ask, as I follow him into the bedroom. Bruce closes the door behind me, a soft smile on his face. He runs a hand through my hair, his fingers pressing against my scalp. His touch feels good, relaxing, and I can't help but close my eyes and step closer. I can hear Bruce take a step towards me, his breath against my cheek. I make sure to keep my eyes shut. It feels better this way.

  
"It's business stuff. You wouldn't understand," Bruce whispers, his tone condescending. I frown at his words, suddenly feeling the need to push Bruce away. I feel so stupid and small. Why wouldn't I understand a business deal? I mean, am I really that dumb? I know I grew up in a circus and everything, but that doesn't mean I don't how business works. That doesn't mean I can't learn. I thought I was a little bit smarter than that.

  
"You don't know that. I'm smart. I understand things," I say, opening my eyes to glare at him. Bruce smiles, but it's not a nice smile. It's the kind of smile you give someone when you pity them, or when you think they're naive and don't know any better.

  
He traces a finger down my arm and into my palm. His mouth is so close to mine. I know he's going to kiss me, but I don't know when.

  
"Aww, Dick," Bruce says, his other hand coming up to stroke my cheek, "You're not smart."

  
I'm silent as I try to understand what Bruce just said to me. I almost don't believe his words for a second. They sound so mean. I know I'm not a genius or anything, but that doesn't mean I'm not smart, right? That's what I thought anyway, but Bruce doesn't seem to think that. He doesn't think I'm smart at all.

  
It hurts, and I feel rejected, betrayed even. Bruce is the only person who loves me, but he doesn't think much of me. He thinks I'm worthless, doesn't he? Bruce knows me better than anyone else, even better than I know myself. So maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not smart at all. Maybe the only thing I'm actually any good for is being fucked.

  
It takes me a moment to realize I'm crying. My bottom lip is trembling, and the tears fall down my face like waterfalls. I feel embarrassed and humiliated. At the sight of my tears, Bruce gets down on his knees.

  
"Oh baby, don't cry," he says in a gentle voice, using both hands to wipe away my tears, "It's okay that you're stupid. That's why you have me. I'll always be here to take care of you. I think for you, so that you don't have to."

  
I cry harder at this, because it's not just that I'm not smart, but it's that I'm actually stupid. A small part of me had always believed that I was stupid, but I didn't think that Bruce thought that too.

  
I'm stupid. I'm so, so stupid. I can't figure out anything on my own. If it wasn't for Bruce, I would have died in a ditch years ago, because I'm too stupid to figure out how to survive on my own. I'm dumb in every sense of the word, and no amount of schooling is ever going to change that.

  
"What's even the point of me still being in school then?" I sob, my words barely comprehensible, "I'm too stupid to ever get into a college!"

  
"Dick," Bruce scoffs. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I lay my head on his shoulder, my arms still hanging by my side. I'm so upset that I can't even make myself hug Bruce back, "You're not going to college. There's no need for you to go to college. You have me."

  
I immediately stop crying, pulling away from Bruce's embrace. He surprisingly lets me. He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, confused by my sudden mood swing. I'm confused too, so much so that it stopped my crying. I place my hands on each of his shoulders, clearing my throat before speaking.

  
"Wait a second, I'm not going to college?" I ask, because Bruce isn't making much sense right now. Back when I was part of the circus, I never thought about college. One, because I was nine, and what nine year old thinks that far into the future? And two, because I was an acrobat in a circus and I always figured that that's what I'd always want to be.

  
But then the Night That Changed Everything happened, and Bruce adopted me. Everything was different then, and I guess I just assumed that I'd go to college one day because that's what kids who aren't part of the circus do. I was right to assume that, right? After finishing high school, most kids go to college. I know college is expensive and everything, but I figured if anyone could afford it, it was Bruce.

  
"Of course not. There's no reason for you to go, because you have me. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Bruce says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Then I realize that it really is the most obvious thing in the world.

  
Bruce has told me dozens of times that I'm going to stay in this manor with him forever. He's told me about how we're going to get married when I'm older, and how he'll always take care of me. I should have realized before now that I'm not going to college. Bruce doesn't want me to go, so I won't. He doesn't think there's any reason for me to go, and I think he's got a point.

  
Whether I like it or not, I'm stuck with him for the rest of my life. Education means nothing to me, because I'll never be on my own. It makes me wonder why I'm even trying to learn in the first place. Who cares if I fail all of my classes? It's not like I'll ever have an opportunity to use what I've learned. I won't need to get a steady job, or learn how to support myself. Why do I even bother?

  
"Oh my god, you're right. You're so right," I murmur, running a hand through my hair. I turn away from him, placing a hand on my hip.

  
It feels strange knowing this new information. It makes me feel a little miserable to know that I'll never be able to do something on my own, even if it's just to go away to school, but at the same time, I'm kind of relieved. I'd probably get too anxious to go away to college anyway. I can barely handle going an afternoon without being with Bruce. How would I be able to go weeks without seeing him at a school where I don't know anyone?

  
It was stupid of me to even think I was capable of something as big and scary as college. It was also stupid of me to think that Bruce would be okay with me moving out, even if it was temporary. As if Bruce would ever let me leave the manor without him.

  
"What are you thinking, Dick?" Bruce asks. I swallow loudly, trying to find my words. I slowly turn back around to face him. He's watching me carefully, his eyes full of worry. I shrug.

  
"I don't know what to think. I, um, I don't know. I feel strange," I say, and then place a hand on my stomach, "I don't think I feel so good."

  
Bruce brushes the back of his hand against my cheek, his expression soft and understanding. His gaze is intense, his eyes swimming with concern.

  
"Don't even worry about that stuff, okay? It's not even worth thinking about," Bruce tells me. I nod in response, and Bruce gives me a small smile, "I do have something to tell you that might cheer you up."

  
"Yeah?" I ask, wiping at my eyes. I feel so much more exhausted now than I was before Bruce came home. I just want to lay down and take a nap. I can't get over the fact that Bruce thinks I'm stupid. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I thought he had more faith in me than that.

  
"Yeah. I thought it would be nice if you went to Metropolis with me. You know, sort of like a mini vacation?" Bruce says. My lips part as I consider this idea. Bruce wants me to go to Metropolis with him? I guess that would be nice. It might be good for me to get out of Gotham for a while.

  
"But aren't you going to be busy with work stuff?" I ask, and Bruce shrugs.

  
"Yes, I'll have a lot of work to do, but I can cut some time out for you. And who knows? Maybe I'll even let you come to work with me," Bruce says, his smile growing. I smile back, because the more Bruce talks about us going to Metropolis together, the more I like the idea. I've heard a lot about Metropolis, and it would be cool to visit there again. It would be a real visit this time too. I wouldn't be there as a circus performer, but as a tourist.

  
I will admit that going to work with Bruce does sound really appealing to me. There have been a couple of times where Alfred has taken me to visit Bruce at Wayne Enterprises, but it was always a quick visit. Bruce wouldn't tell me anything about what he was working on, and he would only let me see his office when he wasn't busy with work. Bruce has always kept his business life very private, and going to work with him in Metropolis might finally be my chance to see what he actually does.

  
"I think I'd like that," I say. Bruce continues to stroke my cheek, smiling fondly at me.

  
"I know I said we'd go to the Bahamas for your birthday, but I haven't been able to find the time away from work. Things are just so hectic right now, what with this contract and everything. I thought this Metropolis trip would be a good placeholder until then," Bruce explains. I think Bruce makes a good point. Metropolis might be safer for me than the Bahamas anyway.

  
Going to the Bahamas for two weeks means that Bruce would have an endless amount of time to do whatever he wants to me. I do want to spend time with Bruce, but I'm afraid that all he would want to do is have sex, and sex is painful for me. At least if we go to Metropolis, Bruce will have a lot of work to do, and that means less sex. It also means I might get lonely, but at least I won't be in as much physical pain as I might be in the Bahamas.

  
"That's okay. Metropolis is good too," I tell him, and then without any warning, Bruce rushes forward to kiss me. His lips are soft, his mouth sliding against mine. I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer so that my body is pressed against his. My whole body trembles as Bruce stands, and then lifts me off the floor. He takes my legs and wraps them around his waist. I don't have any choice but to let him.

  
We're so busy kissing, his tongue twisted around mine, that I don't even notice Bruce walk into the bathroom and kick the door closed behind us. His hands start on my back, and then they go lower, and lower...until he squeezes and I gasp into the kiss. Bruce pulls away with a satisfied smile. I'm panting hard, resting my head on his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. I can barely focus on what's going on around me, too caught up in the moment to notice anything else.

  
It's like no matter what he does or say, Bruce has this weird power over me. He can make me do whatever he wants, no matter how much he has hurt me. I don't know how he does it, but I know I hate it. I don't like being so weak. Bruce just does something to me. Even when I'm angry at him, I can't help but want to be near him. My soul aches for him.

  
"Let's get you in the bath, my dirty little boy," Bruce says with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. His tone implies something dangerous, and I don't like it. I'm about to answer him, but then Bruce's mouth is on mine again, and all my thoughts melt away.


	35. Love and Loyalty

"You're suite, Sir," the bellboy says with a smile, pulling our cart of luggage into the room. I follow Bruce off of our private elevator, and into the hotel suite. Bruce's eyes skim over the room, the bellboy beginning to sweat from nerves.

  
"If there is anything that is not to your liking, please, don't hesitate to tell us. We can make any accommodations necessary," the bellboy goes on.

  
I feel bad for the guy. He probably thinks Bruce hates the room, but I know that's not the case. The suite is magnificent. Everything about it is so classy and elegant. Bruce told me on the way here that we would be staying at Metropolis' best hotel, and this is the presidential suite. This suite is one of the best things money can buy in Metropolis.

  
"I suppose this will do," Bruce says after a long, tense silence. The bellboy lets out a loud sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxing. I give the poor guy a small smile.

  
"Great! Let us know if you need anything else, Sir!" he says. Bruce nods in his direction, his expression hard and stony. The bellboy eagerly leaves, the elevator doors closing behind him. Bruce puts his suitcase down, turning back to face me. His mean, cold demeanor disappears, replaced with soft eyes and a loving smile.

  
"So what do you think?" He asks. I nod, walking farther into the room. I gesture to the view of the city through the window.  
"I like the view," I tell him. Bruce glances at the view, and shrugs.

  
"It's okay. I'd like it better if I wasn't looking at Metropolis," he says nonchalantly. I roll my eyes at him, because now Bruce is just being silly.

  
Bruce has been complaining nonstop since we arrived in Metropolis. He complained that the sun was too bright, the streets were too clean, and everyone we had come across on our way to the hotel was a kiss-ass. His words, not mine.

  
I think he's just been looking for things to complain about. It's starting to get really annoying though. If I had known he would whine so much on this trip, I wouldn't have wanted to come at all. Not that it matters what I want, but still.

  
"Aww, come on," I say, joining him by the window, "It's not that bad, and we'll be back in Gotham soon enough. A change in scenery is a good thing."

  
Bruce hums in response, and I let out a loud sigh before turning away. We spend the next five minutes checking out the rest of the suite, Bruce nodding in approval as we do. The hotel definitely holds up to his nearly impossible standards. In fact, I'd say this hotel is better than any hotel I've ever seen in Gotham, but I would never say that out loud to Bruce. He'd be so pissed at me.

  
The last room we enter is the master bedroom. I shrug my backpack off my shoulders, and throw it onto one of the chairs. My eyes land on the pillows, where something small and silver rests.

  
"Look! They left little chocolates on our pillows!" I exclaim happily with a grin, jumping onto the bed excitedly and grabbing one of the small candies, "I love it when hotels leave chocolates like this. It's like a little present to me."

  
Bruce grins back, an eyebrow raised in amusement. He shakes his head at me, coming closer to the bed. I sit cross legged, bouncing in place.

  
"Can I eat it?" I ask Bruce shyly, because I know how much he hates for me to eat junk food. He sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. Maybe this trip was a good idea after all.

  
"Sure. Knock yourself out," he tells me. I don't waste another minute before unwrapping the chocolate, and gobbling it up. It's rich, delicious, and puts me in an even better mood.

  
"It's really good. Have yours," I say, throwing Bruce the other one. I watch him eat it, but he's not half as happy about it as I am. Bruce is probably so used to fancy, little things like chocolates on the pillows that he doesn't even realize how special it is. Not everyone can afford these kinds of luxuries, so we need to appreciate the fact that we can. Bruce doesn't know what it's like to grow up poor, but I do. I kind of feel like it's my job to show Bruce just how blessed he is. I know a lot of terrible things have happened to him, but some good things have happened to him too.

  
"You're really lucky, you know," I say. Bruce looks up at me in surprise. He scoots closer, his thigh pressing against mine. His brows pull together in curiosity, his head cocked to the side.

  
"How so?" He asks.

  
"You're able to have things like this. You always have been," I say, waving to the room around us. "You've always just been able to get the best, no questions asked. I mean, you get the chocolates on the pillows, the king sized bed, the butler that does all your cooking and cleaning for you. You get it all, Bruce."

  
Bruce stares at me, his face empty of emotion. We sit in silence for what seems like hours. The only thing I can hear is the ticking of a clock. Bruce is still, his gaze penetrating, and it begins to make me uncomfortable. I look down at the bed, twisting my hands together anxiously. I said the wrong thing, didn't I? I think I was better off not saying anything at all.

  
"Dick, how could you think that?" Bruce asks, breaking the silence. I open my mouth to answer him, but no words come out. I press my lips together, wishing there was a way to rewind time. Or maybe make this moment disappear. I'd be fine with either.

  
"I don't know. I just figured, you know, because of all of this stuff," I mumble, gesturing to the room again. Bruce gives me an incredulous look, and I feel like an idiot for saying anything at all.

  
"All of this stuff, Dick, is nothing but stuff," Bruce says, gesturing the same way I did, "Being able to afford nice things means nothing. It doesn't mean 'I have it all'. Money doesn't bring you happiness. You understand that, don't you?"

  
Bruce is watching me, waiting for me to respond, but I can't speak. Bruce just seems so passionate right now. He sounds so upset about what he's saying. He really believes that what he's saying is the truth, and it makes me believe in what he's saying. It makes me realize that everything I've been saying is totally and completely wrong.

  
"Y-yeah, I think so," I stutter. Bruce sighs in exasperation, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. I can feel my face go hot with embarrassment.

  
"Let me ask you something, Dick," Bruce goes on, taking my hands into his, "Do you feel like you have it all?"

  
No, no I don't feel like I have it all. I most definitely do not feel like I have it all.

  
I stare at Bruce, thinking that even though I live in a mansion, and I'm the ward of a multibillionaire, I don't feel very blessed. Even though Bruce can give me anything my heart desires, I still don't feel lucky. Most of the time, I just feel miserable.

  
"No," I answer in a quiet voice, barely louder than a whisper. I'm afraid for a moment that this wasn't the answer Bruce wanted to hear. I wonder if he's upset to hear that I'm not completely happy with my life. At the same time though, I feel like Bruce wants me to be as sad as he is.

  
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Bruce says, his voice monotone. I'm surprised by his lack of emotion at my answer. I was expecting some sort of response, but Bruce doesn't even seem to care.

  
"But it's not like you only have nice things in your life. You have a whole family," I point out.

  
"You're right, I do. I have you, Helena, and Selina. And that's great and everything, but..." Bruce says with a sigh. I wait for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn't. Instead, Bruce just stares down at his hands. His eyes glaze over, too distracted by his thoughts to speak.

  
"But..."

  
"I don't know. Forget I said anything," he says, rolling off the bed. I watch as Bruce turns away from me, clearing his throat. He turns back to me with a smile, and I know exactly what he's trying to do.

  
Bruce is just pretending with me. He's pretending that everything is fine, and that he's just being his normal self. He's trying to act like nothing's wrong, but I know that's not the case. Bruce isn't okay. I wonder if he ever really was.

  
"Hey, Bruce," I whisper, crawling closer to where he's standing. I hesitantly touch his hand, afraid he'll push me away. I don't think Bruce will. He almost never rejects me, but that doesn't stop me from fearing that he might.

  
Bruce glances down at our hands, and then his gaze meets mine. He's curious, and a little cautious too. I can tell from the look in his eyes. He looks almost vulnerable right now, maybe even lonely. I want to be there for him. I want him to know that he's not alone.

  
"I love you. You know that, right?" I tell him. Bruce pauses for a moment before smiling, his eyes lighting up. He tugs on my hand, and I lean in closer. There's only a sliver of space between us now, and I can feel Bruce breathing against my hair. I stare into his beautiful, blue eyes, and I don't want to look away. I can't look away.

  
"Yeah, I know that. But I do think you need to say it more," Bruce says lightly, and I grin at him.

  
"And you'll always be here for me, so I'll always be here for you," I promise him. Bruce's smile widens. I struggle to respond in kind.

  
I know I said the right thing. I know that Bruce needs someone who will be loyal to him forever, who will be there for him no matter what. Some could argue that he already has Alfred and Selina for that, but I don't think so. I don't think Alfred and Selina know Bruce the way I do. Maybe they know the basic things about him, but they don't know what's inside Bruce. Not the way I do.

  
I've seen every part of Bruce. I've seen him at his best, and I have definitely seen him at his worst. I know the kind of monster Bruce could turn into, but I also know that he isn't always that monster. There's good in him, but there's also a lot of bad. And despite all his flaws and violent behavior, I love him. I love him so much. I'm not even sure it's healthy to love someone that much.

  
It should make me feel good to know that I can be so loyal and loving, but I don't think it does. A part of me just feels so miserable. A part of me doesn't want to be with Bruce forever. He makes me so depressed sometimes. Sometimes he even makes me hate myself. I mean, should I really love someone who makes me feel so awful all the time?

  
That's why I can't be as happy as Bruce is about us being together forever. When I tell Bruce that I'll always be there for him, I feel like a part of me is dying.

  
He brushes his fingers against my cheek, his eyes tender and kind. I smile at him shyly, glad to see that he's in a better mood now. I might not be able to get Bruce to talk about his feelings, but at least I can put a smile on his face. When it comes to Bruce, I have to be happy with what I get.

  
"I love you so much," he whispers against my forehead, giving me goosebumps. He gives me a light, chaste kiss on the lips, and I'm a little surprised when he pulls away. I guess I was expecting a little bit more than that.

  
He hums at my confused expression, giving me a small kiss on the nose. As if I'm a child.

  
"C'mon, let's go unpack and then we could go out. I don't have to work until tomorrow morning, so tonight is all about you," Bruce says, turning away from me and leaving the bedroom.

  
I watch him go, wondering what he could mean by that. He did say we were going out, so at least I know we won't be having sex all night. If only there was a way I can avoid sex from happening at all. Bruce did say this night is all about me, so maybe we'll only do things that he knows I love to do.

  
As I jump off the bed and follow Bruce, I tell myself that everything is going to be alright. Bruce isn't going to hurt me tonight and we're not going to have sex. And even if we do have sex, Bruce will use that bottle of lotion again, like he did that one time.

  
I liked that stuff. It made having sex much less painful, but Bruce only used it that one time. I don't know what he has against it, but I wish he would use it more often.

  
I'm lying to myself. There is no way Bruce and I aren't having sex tonight. It's been months since we went even a day without sex. Bruce is a sex maniac. The man can't seem to go a full twenty four hours without doing it. And since Selina won't be here to help Bruce meet his needs, he's going to be hornier than usual.

  
I tell myself that there's no point in worrying about these things. There's nothing I can do to stop Bruce and I from having sex, so I might as well just accept it and move on. I should think about better, happier things. I think about Metropolis, and how I'm getting the chance to explore this beautiful city.

  
I tell myself that everything is going to be just fine. Today's going to be a great day, this trip is going to be great trip, and I am a happy person.

  
I am a happy person, and maybe if I say it enough times, I'll actually start to believe it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a short one, but I felt like this was a good place to end the chapter.


	36. Metropolis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, everyone. I am still working on this story everyday!

The next couple of hours go by all too quickly. First, Bruce takes to Metropolis Park, located in the heart of the city. It's a beautiful day weather wise; the sky is a clear blue and it's warm but not humid.

  
I'm too entertained by my surroundings to make much conversation. I watch as the people stroll by us, no one in a rush to get anywhere. That's the nice thing about parks. For the most part, people come to parks to enjoy themselves and the environment, not to get somewhere as quickly as possible.

  
In the center of the park is a pond where people can purchase a little sailboat, and then sail it across the water. Bruce asks me if I want to buy one, but I turn down his offer when I see that only the really little kids have the sailboats. I don't see anyone my own age playing with one, and I don't want to look like the stupid weirdo who does.

  
Instead, Bruce and I opt to sit on one of the benches and watch the sailboats float across the vast pond. We sit close, but not too close, so that only our arms are pressed against each other. I hum happily as I listen to the children laugh and play, watching them skip across the grass without a care in the world.

  
I wish I was that young again. I wish I could be happy, and carefree, and so ignorant of all the evils of the world. Watching the children reminds me of Helena, and I'm surprised by the sadness that stabs my heart when I think of how I miss her.  
I really do miss Helena. She was so joyful and full of light. I wish I could see her again, maybe even spend more time with her.

  
"I like it here," I tell Bruce, breaking our peaceful silence. He gives me a small smile, casually resting his arm on the back of my seat. It's as intimate as he can get with me without being inappropriate.

  
"Yeah? I guess it's nice. People sure do seem to be happy here," Bruce comments, his eyes gazing over the families. I nod in agreement, because Bruce is right. People really are happy here. And I'm not just talking about the park, I'm talking about all of Metropolis. In Gotham, the people always seem so gloomy, or angry, or on edge. You can't go out by yourself after eight without worrying about being mugged or killed.

  
No one seems to have that problem here. Everything appears to be much more relaxed here. I bet no one has to worry about being raped or killed at night. This is a nice city, a good city. I kind of wish Bruce and I lived here instead. Maybe if we did, Bruce would treat me better. Maybe he'd be gentler with me, or respect me more.

  
I shake my head, telling myself that that's a ridiculous thing to think. Bruce will always be the way he is, no matter what city we live in. Bruce doesn't change just because his surroundings do.

  
"What are you thinking, Dick? You look upset," Bruce asks. I look up at him and try to smile, but end up grimacing instead. His gaze is intense, and I feel like Bruce is looking right through me. Even if I lie, he can see the truth.

  
"I was just thinking about how different this city is from Gotham," I say, my voice weaker than I'd hoped it would be. Bruce hums in response, his expression nonchalant. I get the feeling that he isn't as impressed with Metropolis as I am.

  
"It is, but I still prefer Gotham," he says, his tone casual. I let out a loud sigh, sparing him only a glance before turning my gaze back to the pretty view in front of me.

  
I don't understand why Bruce is so loyal to Gotham City. So many awful things have happened to him in that city, I'd think he'd hate the city for it. Some truly terrible things have happened to me in Gotham too. I think I would be better off staying in Metropolis. Too bad Bruce doesn't see it that way though.

 

  
**********************

 

  
After the sun has set and we've left the park, Bruce takes me out to a restaurant. The restaurant is bathed in darkness, with only dim lights and candles to light the way. The hostess barely says a word as she leads us through the restaurant. Each table is blocked off by curtains to give the diners some privacy.

  
We're led to the back of the restaurant, our table farther away from everyone else's. The hostess pulls out my chair for me, and I give her a grateful smile as I make myself comfortable in the big, velvet arm chair. Bruce sits down opposite of me, nodding to the hostess as she hands us our menus.

  
"Your waiter will be with you shortly," she says before leaving. The hostess closes the curtain around us, and I suddenly have the awful feeling of being trapped. I feel like Bruce and I are all alone, the rest of the world so completely far away that anything could happen, and no one would even notice.

  
I ball my hands into fists, my legs shaking nervously. Bruce takes his clothed napkin, and folds it onto his lap, seeming to be completely unaware of how anxious I am. It isn't until he looks up at me that his expression turns to one of concern, his brows pulled together in bewilderment.

  
"What's wrong?" He asks, his hand reaching out to take mine. Our locked hands rest on the center of the small table, and I stare at them for a long moment, thinking about what they symbolize.

  
Love. Unity. Ownership.

  
Bruce owns me. No matter what I do or where we go, Bruce owns me. He can do whatever he wants to me right now, and I don't think anyone in this restaurant would do anything to stop him. It's a terrifying thought, and it only makes me panic more. Even in a public place, even in a different city, I'm not safe.

  
"Um, it's nothing. I'm fine," I say quickly, sliding my hand out from under his. I almost expect Bruce to grab for my hand again, but he doesn't. I lick my lips nervously, and shove my hands under my thighs, telling myself to calm down. This is not the time or the place to start panicking.

  
Bruce is about to speak again when the curtain is pulled back, revealing our waiter for the night. Bruce turns to him with a charming smile, any evidence of the concern he was showing just moments ago gone.

  
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne. My name is Ben, and I will be your waiter for the night. Can I start you off with some drinks?" The waiter asks with a bright smile, a notepad in his hands.

  
Bruce orders himself a glass of wine and a plate of appetizers for the two of us. He seems so relaxed, his smile easy. I don't know how he does it. I don't know how he can seem so calm all of the time, even when he's not. I need to learn how to do that too.

  
The waiter leaves us after having read us the specials for the night. I let out a deep breath when he does, my gaze glued to the red tablecloth. I'm kind of afraid to look at Bruce. I chew on my bottom lip, listening as Bruce sips at his glass of ice water.

  
"What do you think of this place?" He asks. I look up, my eyes meeting his, and my heart skips a beat. Bruce is so handsome. I mean, he always looks handsome, but he looks especially so under the candlelight. I can see the fire from the candles flicker in his eyes, and his skin looks darker under this light. He looks like he's just stepped out of one of those old black and white movies. He's enchanting.

  
"It's nice," I murmur, glancing around, "A little romantic though, don't you think?"

  
Bruce only hums, a slight smile growing on his face. There's an almost mischievous glint in his eyes.

  
"I suppose it is. I've been here once before, and was happily surprised with how good the food was. I like the privacy too," he comments. I stare down at my lap, my hands twisting together anxiously. I wonder who else Bruce has taken to this restaurant. I bet it was some beautiful woman, maybe even Selina? Just the thought of Bruce seducing some random woman under romantic candlelight makes me clench my fists in jealousy.

  
What is wrong with me? Why do I have to be jealous of everyone who gets to spend time with Bruce? Why can't I just be a normal, typical fourteen year old boy, who isn't in love with his warden? Life would be so much easier if I was.

  
"Oh, so you've taken someone here before?" I ask, trying to sound casual. Like I don't care what his answer is, like I'm not dying to know who else Bruce has sat at this very table with. It's not like just the thought of Bruce cuddling or having sex with someone who isn't me kills a small part of my soul. I'm not that pathetic. I'm stronger than that. Or at least, I wish I was.

  
I pick up my menu and skim the entree options, trying to look distracted. I can't see Bruce's reaction, but I can hear the amusement in his voice when he answers me. It's a clear sign that he knows I'm only pretending not to care. I'm not fooling him.

  
"I have," is all he says in response. I nod slowly, trying not to let my envy show. I place the menu back down on the table, closing it. I know it's pointless to look at it anyway. Bruce probably already knows what he's ordering me.

  
"Who was she?" I push, daring to meet his eyes. Bruce raises an eyebrow, flashing me one of his classic smug smirks. There's almost no point to pretend none of this means anything to me. Bruce can read me like a book.

  
"A reporter I was dating at the time. She lives here," he says. I press my lips together, wondering why Bruce would even consider dating someone who lives in Metropolis. He hates this city, so I can't see how he can stand to date anyone who lives here.

  
I'm about to ask him more questions when our waiter interrupts us with wine and appetizers. I'm quiet as Bruce thanks the waiter, and takes a sip of his wine. The waiter takes our orders, and collects our menus before leaving.

  
I'm upset with Bruce, and not only because he took me out to a place where he's taken a date before, but also because he's a cheater. He's cheating on me, and he's cheating on Selina. Because that is what Bruce is doing, right? He's cheating on me. I know we're not in an official relationship or anything, but it feels like we are. Bruce plans to marry me one day. That sounds like an official relationship to me, and you don't cheat on people you're in an official relationship with.

  
And what about Selina? She's Bruce's wife, and yet he seems to have no problem with sleeping with me or anyone else he deems pretty enough. How can Selina possibly be okay with that? I know she doesn't know about me and Bruce, but she must know about all the women Bruce dates. His pictures with them constantly show up in the news and gossip magazines. Is she really okay with that? How can Bruce live with the fact that he's such an unfaithful husband? If I was married and cheated on my spouse, the guilt would kill me.

  
Sometimes I wonder, with all the awful things he's done, how does Bruce sleep at night?

  
"How does Selina feel about you dating other people? Doesn't she get jealous?" I ask. Bruce gives me another irritating smirk, as he slides some strange bread and cheese concoction onto my empty plate. I give him a quick, meaningless smile in thanks before taking a bite, waiting for him to respond. Bruce serves himself, chewing thoughtfully before answering.

  
"Selina and I have an open marriage. She's allowed to date just as much as I am," he finally answers. I chew slowly, as I try to make sense of what Bruce just said.

  
So he and Selina are married, but they still see other people. And Selina's okay with that? What's even the point of getting married if you're still going to see other people?

  
I always thought that once you get married, that's it. You marry someone because you love them, because you choose to be with that one person for the rest of your life. You choose to commit, to love that one person no matter what happens. Bruce seems to think that marriage means something different though. He seems to think that you can be married to someone, and yet still date other people. I mean, if that really were the case, then what would be the point of getting married at all!? I don't get it!

  
"That's, uh, what?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion. Bruce watches me with an amused look, a cocky smile on his face. His whole superiority vibe is kind of pissing me off right now.

  
"Is there a problem, Dick?" He asks. As if he doesn't already know what the problem is! I take another bite of my food, giving myself time to think of an appropriate response.

  
"Do you really think that's an okay thing to do? Date other people, I mean. You guys are married," I tell him. Bruce's smirk just grows, his gaze condescending, as if I have no idea what I'm talking about. As if I'm just a naive, innocent little boy.   
I'm not innocent, and I'm not naive either. Bruce took away my innocence years ago.

  
"I don't expect you to understand," he says, and I can tell by Bruce's tone of voice that this conversation is over.

  
I finish eating my appetizers quietly, too busy thinking to make conversation. I hope Bruce doesn't think it's okay to date other people once he's married to me. I hope that when Bruce and I do come out as a couple to the public, he won't keep seeing other people. Wasn't that supposed to be the whole reason he was dating other people anyway? Wasn't he just doing that to throw off suspicion about us?

  
I was under the impression that when Bruce and I do eventually get married, he was going to stop dating other people. If I'm the most important person in his life and he loves me, then why would Bruce want to date anyone else at all? I guess that was a pretty stupid thing of me to think. I should have known better than to think that Bruce could be faithful to just me. He never has been, and he probably never will be.

  
Just then, our waiter comes back with our main entrees, distracting Bruce. I barely say a word as I eat my meal, too mixed up in my thoughts to notice how fresh my salmon tastes. I'm startled back into reality when I feel a foot slide under my pants leg.

  
I practically jump in my seat, dropping my fork as my eyes widen and blood rushes to my cheeks. Bruce only looks up from his meal with a half smile, seemingly unaware of what his foot is doing underneath the table. I'm frozen as I feel his foot rub against my upper thigh.

  
"You look scared, Dick. Is something wrong?" Bruce asks, his tone innocent. I try to think of a response, but I can't. I just shut my mouth and pick up my fork with a trembling hand. I just want to get through this meal. I want to leave this restaurant without having a panic attack. I can do that, right?

  
"Um, uh, no," I mumble, keeping my eyes on my food. I'm too embarrassed to meet Bruce's gaze. I continue to eat, pretending not to notice Bruce's foot crawling up my leg, and hoping that he'll eventually stop.

  
When Bruce does finally remove his foot, I sigh in relief, my tense shoulders relaxing. The relief I feel only lasts for a precious moment, before a strong hand squeezes my knee. I lift my head in surprise, and swallow loudly when our eyes meet.

  
Because the way Bruce is looking at me right now? I don't like it. He's looking at me like he's hungry, and I'm something for him to devour. His cold, narrow eyes send a chill up my spine, giving me goosebumps. My face pales, I gulp loudly, and my mouth goes dry. I'm scared, because I know what Bruce has planned for me tonight, and that thought terrifies me.


	37. Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a while, but I'm finally back with another chapter! I'm stil, working on this story everyday, but I'm just writing a lot less. I found that the more I pushed myself to write, the less I enjoyed it, so the more interest I was losing. I don't want to lose interest in this story, and have found that the less I write, the more interested I become in it. Enjoy!

After dinner, Bruce and I walk back to the hotel. The hotel is only a few blocks away from the restaurant and it was such a nice night, Bruce thought it would be a shame not to walk. I didn't complain. Actually, I thought it was a great idea. Walking back to our suite meant that I can delay the inevitable, and I'm all for that.

  
It's strange walking through Metropolis at night. It's so different from Gotham City, especially in the dark. For the most part, Gotham is grimy, dirty, and dangerous. I haven't had any personal experience with it, but Bruce has told me that walking through Gotham at night is like walking through a horror movie. The streetlights flicker, and that's only if they're working at all. You can hear screaming and crying in the distance, and you can't turn a corner without seeing a homeless person huddled up against a building.

  
According to Bruce, it's not uncommon to hear the moans and groans of men hiding in dark alleyways. Bruce has also told me that if you peek into those dark alleys, you'll probably see a young child's head between said man's naked thighs. Those images never fail to make my blood run cold.

  
Bruce likes to tell me these stories at night, with his naked front pressed against my bare back. The scent of sex invading my nostrils, Bruce's hands running down my sweaty body. He whispers in my ear how lucky I am to have him, how fortunate I am to not be one of those children in the alleyways. He tells me how horrible life would be for me if I was one of those children who had to suck a stranger's cock for money. Bruce tells me that those young boys and girls don't have someone who cares for me the way he does.

  
He's right, of course. I am so fortunate to have Bruce, to belong to him. I am so lucky not to be one of those homeless, lost children.

  
But we're in Metropolis now, and this is a safe city. The city lights twinkle like the Milky Way, reminding me of that night Bruce and I went out to dinner with Silver St. Cloud. That was such a pretty part of Gotham that we were in at the time, but it was also the safe part of the city. That was the rich quarter of Gotham, a mask to hide the beast lurking underneath. Metropolis is better than that. Metropolis doesn't wear a mask. Metropolis is just beautiful, and modern, and kind.

  
Bruce's hand brushes against mine as we walk. I can tell that he wants to hold my hand, but he doesn't know if he should. It's dark, and it would be harder for people to recognize us, but the streets are still busy. People can still see if a grown man and a young boy are holding hands. I wonder if people would think it's strange to see a young boy holding a grown man's hand. Probably not. Maybe they would think Bruce is my dad.

  
No, Bruce looks too young to be my dad. Which is ironic, because even though he doesn't look like a dad, Bruce is one. Huh.   
It's strange to think of Bruce as a dad. Not only does he seem too young to be a father, but it just seems weird to think that I have sex with someone who is a father. Like, the guy I'm in love with has a kid. It's a weird thought. One I had never really considered before. It makes me feel kind of gross.

  
I'm quiet as we enter the hotel, Bruce leading me to the private elevator. I keep my hands folded in front of me as I chew my bottom lip nervously.

  
As soon as the elevator doors shut behind us, Bruce puts his arm around me, letting out a content sigh. I feel a chill run through my bones as he begins to stroke my shoulder, his fingers pressing forcefully against my skin. I wince in pain, barely noticing the elevator doors opening with a ding.

  
I have to force myself to continue to walk as Bruce leads me through the suite. With every step, we get closer and closer to the master bedroom, and I hate that. I don't want to have sex tonight. I don't want to have sex with Bruce if it's going to be painful and make me feel awful about myself. I always feel so bad about myself after sex. I feel so ashamed and disgusted, and I don't want to feel that way anymore.

  
Bruce is so quiet, and that only makes me more frightened of what's to come. I think it would make me feel better if he at least said something to me, maybe even tried to comfort me.

  
I don't even notice that I've stopped walking until Bruce stops too. He looks down at me, his eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment. I can barely look at him. Instead, I focus my gaze on the floor, suddenly finding the wood panels to be very fascinating.

  
"Dick, what's wrong?" He asks, his voice deep and serious. I shove my hands into my pockets, my face red with humiliation. I don't understand why I can't just suck it up and let Bruce have his way with me. I let him do it every other night without freezing in fear. Why can't I do the same tonight?

  
I'm horrified when my bottom lip begins to tremble, and I can feel the tears gather in my eyes. I furiously wipe at my eyes with the back of my sleeves, angry at myself for crying. I hate it when I cry. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. It makes me feel weak and pathetic. I wish I was incapable of crying completely.

  
Bruce crouches down to my eye level, a heavy hand landing on my shoulder. Another hand touches my chin, tipping it upwards, so that I have no choice but to meet his eyes.

  
"Tell me what's wrong," Bruce demands. His eyes are cold, the color of an icy pond. His expression is hard, his lips pressed together in a frown. Bruce isn't in the mood for one of my breakdowns. I can tell.

  
"I-I don't want to do this," I mumble, glancing away quickly. I gnaw on my lower lip, waiting for Bruce to get upset. I think he will. How can he not? I just told him I don't want to have sex with him.

  
"You don't want to do what, Dick? I can't read your mind, you know. You have to be a bit more clearer then that!" Bruce snaps, his tone clipped and impatient.

  
I wince at his tone, my hands beginning to shake in fear.

  
"It's just that...it always hurts so much," I whimper, holding back a sob. I can't even bare to look him in the eyes. I'm too ashamed for that, "I don't want it to hurt anymore."

  
I can't stop the tears from clouding my vision and falling down my cheeks. I hide my face in my hands, trying not to sob too loudly. I can hear Bruce let out a loud sigh, his hand falling off my shoulder.

  
"Come on, Dick, don't be like that. Not now," he says, in an effort to soothe me. I can hear how impatient he is in his voice though, and I know that he's only pretending to care. Bruce just wants to get on with the fucking. He doesn't care that it makes me uncomfortable. He doesn't want to have to put up with a whiny, crying baby like me.

  
Bruce pulls me into a hug, gently picking me up into his arms bridal style. I hide my face in his neck, pressing my lips against his skin. It's not really a sexual gesture, but more of an action of comfort. Because that's all I really want from Bruce anyway; comfort.

  
I let out an appeased sigh as Bruce carries me into the bedroom. I let myself hope, if only for a moment, that Bruce has changed his mind about tonight. Maybe he won't try to force himself on me tonight. I almost laugh out loud at that ridiculous thought.

  
I frown in disappointment when Bruce lays me down on the bed. I close my eyes and snuggle into the nearest pillow, because maybe if I'm lucky, I'll fall right to sleep. And then Bruce can't fuck me, right?

  
I try to ignore the way the mattress sinks as Bruce crawls onto the bed, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. I open my eyes for just a brief moment when one of his hands slips underneath my shirt, his fingers as light as a whisper. I squeeze my eyes shut again. I can feel his heavy breath on my neck, a wet kiss being placed there.

  
"Feeling better now?" He murmurs, as he continues to leave a trail of sloppy kisses along my neck. I can't help how my body begins to relax as he kisses me, leaning my head back so that Bruce has more access to my skin.

  
"Hmm, a little," I mumble. The hand on my stomach presses down harder, forcing me onto my back. I hardly notice though, too distracted by Bruce's lips on my skin. This isn't so bad. It feels kind of nice, actually. If we can just do this all night, I think I'd be very happy.

  
Bruce leans over me, his hand crawling out from under my shirt to the buttons of my shirt collar. He kisses his way down my chest with every undone button. I ease into his touch, running my fingers through his soft hair. Bruce kisses down my stomach, as I watch him through heavy eyelids. He glances up at me, our eyes meet, and my heart skips a beat.

  
"Bruce," I sigh, as he presses his warm, wet tongue against my belly button. I smile at the feeling, humming happily when Bruce begins to leave a mess of kisses on my hip bones.

  
"What do you want, baby?" He murmurs. He fingers the waistband of my jeans, and I know what Bruce wants, but it's not the same thing that I want.

  
What do I want? Well, if I was being honest with Bruce, I'd tell him that what I want is to not be fucked. Or, at least if we did have to have sex, I would want him to use lotion first. Like he did that one time. At least it wouldn't hurt so much then.

  
What I want, what I truly, dearly want is for Bruce to be gentle with me. I want him to be tender and loving. I want him to always be that way, and I want him to make me feel good about myself. I want to be happy, and not just some of the time, but all of the time. Or at least, most of the time.

  
Can I really tell Bruce all of that though? Can I tell him how I really feel without him getting upset with me?

  
"Dick?" Bruce asks, because I've waited too long to answer. I look down at him, having forgotten where I was for a moment. He's playing with the button of my jeans, watching me under hooded eyes. He's being so patient right now. I'm not used to Bruce being this patient. It's nice.

  
"Um, wait, what?" I struggle with words, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth. Bruce flashes me his signature crooked smile. It's the kind of smile that he saves for parties and pretty socialites. I feel my face heat up under his gaze.

  
"What do you want?" Bruce slowly repeats, his eyes not wavering from mine. I swallow loudly, as he slowly begins to undo my pants.

  
"I want you...to be kind," I whisper, lying my head back against the pillow. This will be easier if I don't have to look at Bruce. I won't feel as nervous then.

  
"I can do that," he murmurs, gliding my jeans down my waist and thighs. I feel the cool breeze hit my bare skin, giving me goosebumps. Bruce hums happily.

  
"I want you to be gentle," I continue, closing my eyes and letting out a big breath. I can hear Bruce throw my jeans onto the floor, and then he's sliding my briefs down my legs. I'm ashamed to say that I'm already a little hard, and Bruce lets out a light chuckle when he notices that too.

  
"I can do that too," he says, leaving light kisses down my thighs as he strips me naked. My legs tremble under his touch, as I chew furiously on my bottom lip.

  
"Love me," I whimper, and it sounds like I'm begging for him. I don't know where those words came from, or why I said them, but I wish I hadn't. I'm embarrassed when Bruce runs his hands up my naked skin, licking up the inside of my thighs. I clutch at the sheets as I mewl pathetically.

  
I feel so vulnerable and fragile. I'm half naked, open, and wanting, and Bruce is anything but. He's still fully clothed and fully in control. But then again, when is he not the one in control?

  
"I can definitely do that," Bruce practically growls, and then his mouth is swallowing my cock, and oh my god, I can't breathe.  
He's licking and sucking, and I can't even keep up. I try not to come within the first few seconds, but it's impossible. I am only a teenage boy. Most of the time, I feel like I have no control over my own body's reactions.

  
All too soon, I'm coming down Bruce's throat, whining and moaning the whole way through. Bruce swallows my cum down without a problem, falling off my dick with a loud pop. The obnoxious sound makes me blush red with shame. Our loud panting fills the room. Bruce wipes a bit of saliva away from his mouth.

  
He crawls back up my body, pressing his covered groin against my exposed one. I groan as Bruce begins to rub against me, arching my back off the bed in pleasure. Bruce presses his lips to mine, taking my breath away with a searing kiss. I can barely think as he does, too caught up in the feeling of him all around me. I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping him close.

  
I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel as if I've lost control of my body completely. All I can think about is pleasure, and how good Bruce feels against me. A hand runs through my hair, pulling my head back as our lips part with a loud gasp. Bruce peppers my neck with soft kisses, before biting down harshly. I cry out in pain, my grip on him loosening. That really hurt.

  
"Bruce," I drawl out into a whine, but Bruce just shushes me again with a forceful kiss. The kiss is almost too harsh this time though, not as soft and loving as before. To be honest, it kind of hurts my jaw. Bruce said he'd be gentle tonight, but this isn't gentle at all.

  
I'm grateful when he pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine. I take a minute to try and catch my breath, but it's hard when Bruce keeps grinding his hips against mine.

  
"I'll be right back," he sighs against my face. Bruce is off me in an instant, rolling off the bed and scrambling through his luggage.

  
I'm so surprised by his sudden absence that I can't even respond. I lift my head to watch Bruce rummage through his things, his brows pulled together with determination. I don't know what he could possibly need in a moment like this. He's obviously not looking for a condom, and it can't be some sort of sex toy. Bruce has never dared to use any sex toys with me, thank god.

  
"Got it," Bruce whispers to himself, zipping his bag back up. Then he's crawling back onto the bed, taking off his shirt as he does. I run a hand over my sweaty face, watching him with nervous eyes. Bruce's distracted gaze meets mine, and he smiles at me, his entire expression softening. It makes me feel a little bit better, I guess.

  
I glance down at what Bruce has in his hand, and it makes me so relieved that I feel like I could cry. It's a bottle of lotion. The same bottle Bruce used all those months ago. It's the lotion that made having sex kind of enjoyable for me.

  
"You wanted kind and gentle," Bruce says in explanation, and I give him a small smile in thanks. It makes me feel cared for, to know that Bruce is taking my wants and needs seriously. Bruce loves me. He has always wanted what's best for me.

  
Bruce kneels beside me, bending down to give me a soft and comforting kiss. I lean up into his touch, petting his cheek tenderly. I whimper in protest when he pulls away, Bruce chuckling softly. He guides my head back down against the soft pillows, combing his fingers through my hair.

  
"Just relax. Let Daddy take care of you," he whispers against my ear, and it's disgusting how much those words turn me on. My hips thrust against the air, a desperate whine leaving my mouth.

  
Bruce has never called himself that before. I'm not even sure if I like it or not. I mean, my body obviously likes it, but how do I feel about it? It sounds so dirty and wrong, but at the same time, it feels really right. Like Bruce has always been calling himself my daddy.

  
It frightens me how okay I seem to be with it. I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be okay with any of this.

  
What has happened to me? What has Bruce done to me?

  
He shushes me, running a soothing hand along my hip. I shiver under his touch, my dick standing, waiting for some attention. I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing. I can hear the click of the bottle cap as Bruce busies himself with the lotion.

  
Everything is silent and still for a moment, like the whole world has been put on pause. But then I feel the touch of his wet fingers against my hole, making me jump in surprise. I let out a loud yelp as his warm fingers slip into me, and Bruce snickers lightly.

  
I chew on my lip as Bruce works me open, purring and mewling like a cat as he does. I fist the sheets as Bruce's fingers hit a particular spot inside of me, and then everything suddenly feels a thousand times better.

  
I can feel every sensation.

  
It feels.

  
So.

  
Good.

  
Almost too good. My body can't take it. I can't help how I moan and beg for more. My whole body is hot with shame and arousal.

  
Bruce's lips glide across my skin, and I swear, I've stopped breathing. I feel so overwhelmed by everything, that I can't even think. I can't focus on any one thing. All I can think about is Bruce, and how it feels like he's everywhere and everything.

  
"Please," I whimper, before Bruce silences me with a searing kiss. He slips in another finger, and then another. I pull away from the kiss, too distracted by the feeling of Bruce's fingers inside of me.

  
My body screams for more. I wish it wouldn't. I wish I could stand my ground and tell Bruce no. I don't want this. I shouldn't want any of this, but I can't help it. My body needs Bruce, it needs him to posses and own me.

  
"Bruce, Bruce please! I want you," I beg pitifully, my hands reaching out for him. Bruce lets me pull him closer, his body pressed against mine. I rub up against him, but Bruce is still half dressed, and it's not as satisfying as I had hoped it would be. I growl in frustration, as Bruce continues to thrust his fingers into me.

  
The next few seconds happen all too quickly. In what seems to be only half a second, Bruce has pulled down his pants, and squirted the warm lotion all over my anus. And then, without a moment's notice, he's entering me.

  
I feel so full and consumed, and it makes it hard to breathe. Everything happens so quickly that I can't even keep track of it all, and the feeling of Bruce inside of me is too overwhelming.

  
My brain has shut down completely, and all I know is the feeling of Bruce thrusting into me. He's grunting, his face pressed against my sweaty neck. He feels so good inside of me. I don't even realize that I'm meeting his thrusts, my body desperate for release.

  
I can feel it coming like a tidal wave, and I can't stand to wait any longer. My cock is hard and leaking, desperate to be touched. It rubs against Bruce's stomach, staining him with cum.

  
And then Bruce is coming with a loud groan, and I gasp when I feel his warm cum spill into me. Bruce continues to rock into me, determined to get me off. I wish he would touch my cock, but I know he won't. He wants me to come from his dick alone.

  
"C'mon baby, come for Daddy," Bruce whispers against my ear, sucking on my earlobe.

  
Those words are all it takes for me to come, tears running down my cheeks as I do. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and all I can see is a blinding white. Bruce laughs at my reaction as my cum spurts all over him.

  
I close my eyes and sigh as my body slowly comes down from its high. It's not until after I've calmed down that I realize how sweaty we both are, and how the whole room smells like our cum.

  
Bruce doesn't move an inch, his sweaty body sticky against mine. His cum is just sitting in my hole. It makes me feel uncomfortably full. I have to stop myself from asking Bruce to get off of me. His face is hidden against my neck, his heavy breathing hot on my skin. I wiggle underneath him, wishing Bruce would move.

  
I feel disgusting with myself. I'm not supposed to enjoy having sex. That's not the way this is supposed to work. Bruce and I have sex, it's what we do, but I'm not supposed to take pleasure in it. What does it say about me that I do? What does that say about the kind of person I am?

  
I don't think sex is supposed to be this way. I don't think sex was like this for my parents. Maybe sex is different for other people. Other people don't feel bad for liking sex. Maybe I'm the problem here. Maybe I'm just that one weirdo in the world who wasn't meant to have sex at all.

  
What is wrong with me? Why do I have to have so many problems?

  
I let out a sigh of relief when Bruce pulls out of me, rolling off of me and onto his back. I stare up at the dark ceiling, rubbing the sweat off my forehead. Bruce's heavy breathing fills the room, but I try to block out the sound. For one moment, I'd like to pretend that I'm alone. I'd like to pretend that I didn't just have sex and enjoy it. I'd like to pretend that I'm safe, secure, and that I don't feel violated.

  
I reach a hand out for the blankets, pulling them over my naked body without taking my eyes off of the ceiling. I can feel Bruce's cum spilling out of my anus and down my thighs, but I try to ignore that horrible feeling. I try to ignore any reminder of what just happened.

  
I can feel Bruce's eyes on me, waiting for me to say something. I don't speak though. I'm too exhausted to talk right now. The silence between us seems to drag on forever, before Bruce finally lets out a loud sigh and rolls out of the bed.

  
I look over at him in surprise, watching Bruce switch on the light to the bathroom. The bright light spills out into the dark bedroom. He picks up a neatly folded white washcloth, and turns on the sink, running it under the water. I still don't know what Bruce plans to do with the washcloth as he turns off the bathroom light, and crawls back into bed.

  
"Here," is all he says in explanation, pulling the blankets off me. I'm about to protest as he reveals my naked body, but then he starts wiping the cum away from my legs. I shut my mouth, watching Bruce curiously as he wipes me clean. The washcloth is cool against my skin, giving me goosebumps, but that doesn't bother me.

  
I'm too surprised to say anything. Never in my whole life has Bruce ever washed the cum off of my body after sex. He's never even said anything about it before. It's almost like he's never even noticed, like he was too distracted with pleasing himself to consider how uncomfortable I might be. Apparently though, that wasn't the case tonight.

  
After he's washed me clean, Bruce puts the washcloth aside and pulls the blankets back around me. He snuggles in close, pulling my front to his. I rub my cheek against his wide chest, inhaling the familiar scent.

  
"Was that good for you, baby?" He murmurs, rubbing my back in soothing circles. I nod against his chest, letting out an exhausted sigh. Bruce hums in satisfaction, pulling me closer. I wrap my arms around his waist, enjoying the closeness.

  
This right here? Me and Bruce just cuddling in bed? It's what I live for. It's one of my favorite parts of everyday. Being held by Bruce makes me remember that I'm not alone, that someone loves me. There's no other feeling in the world that makes me feel quite the same.

  
"Hey Bruce, can I ask you a question?" I ask shyly, hiding my face against his chest.

  
"Depends on the question," he answers, and I swallow loudly. I'm glad it's dark and I can't see his face, because I don't think I'd be able to ask this if I could.

  
"It's something that I've wanted to ask you for a while now," I say, and then wait for Bruce to respond before continuing. He doesn't though. I sigh loudly, tightening my grip around him.

  
I'm a little afraid to ask Bruce this question. I'm really curious, but I also don't want to make him talk about his terrible childhood. I don't want him to get upset with me.

  
"Just say it, Dick," Bruce spits out, his tone harsher than before. I chew on my bottom lip, knowing that there's no turning back now. I can't just tell Bruce to forget it. At this point, he'd insist.

  
"I was just wondering when was the first time, you know, did it? With a girl, I mean? How old were you?" I mumble awkwardly, thankful he can't see how embarrassed this question makes me.

  
It's a stupid question, I know, but I'm curious. Bruce has been with so many people, and it kind of makes me wonder where it all began. Obviously I know it started with his uncle Philip, but that's not really what I mean. I'm more curious to know when he started having sex because he liked it.

  
I can't help but wonder sometimes what it would be like to have sex with a girl. I'm sure it would be very different from having sex with a guy. Girls just aren't built the same way guys are. I wonder if I'd enjoy sex more if it was with a girl. Maybe it would be a lot less painful for me?

  
Not that I'll ever know what it's like to have sex with a girl. Bruce would never allow that. I belong to him. I think he's made that pretty clear by now.

  
A loud silence fills the room, and I can feel Bruce's body stiffen under my touch. I can feel his gaze on the top of my head, but I refuse to meet his eyes. I prefer to bury my face in his chest.

  
"Why would you ask me that?" He finally asks, his tone as sharp as the blade of a knife. I immediately regret having asked him anything at all.

  
"Um, uh, I was just wondering I guess," I stutter. Bruce's grip on me tightens, holding me closer. He's making it hard for me to breathe.

  
"You don't even like girls like that," he answers confidently, as if he has always known without a doubt that I'm gay. But how can he know that when I'm not even sure of it?

  
Am I attracted to girls in that way? Maybe. I thought I was. I guess I never gave it much thought in the first place.

  
I think back to when I first met Barbara Gordon, and how I was drawn to her right away. I thought she was beautiful, perfect, and so very kind. I couldn't help but be happy when I was around her. Looking back on it now, I think I did really like her. I think I liked her a lot, but then I found that she was just using me. Just like everyone else on this earth does. Everyone but Bruce.

  
"I don't know. Maybe I do," I say in a quiet, timid voice. There's a long pause before Bruce answers. I didn't give him the answer he was looking for.

  
"You don't. Trust me, okay? I know what I'm talking about here. You don't like anyone like that, only me. Do you understand?" He says. His tone of voice leaves no room for argument. His hand on my waist tightens, making me wince in pain.

  
I don't think Bruce is right. I think I do actually like girls. That's not to say I don't like Bruce, because that's definitely not true. I love Bruce. He's my everything. I think I might like boys too though. I'm not too sure about that. Do I genuinely like boys, or do I only think I like boys because of what Bruce has done to me? I really don't know. I don't think I've ever had a crush on a boy, at least, not in the same way I liked Barbara. Then again, maybe I've just never been given the chance to have a crush on a boy.

  
I don't know. All I do know for sure is that figuring out if I like boys or girls is all very confusing. I know I love Bruce, but that's all I really know for sure. I'm only fourteen years old anyway. Aren't I a little young to be figuring out what my sexuality is? I've got time to figure out that kind of stuff. I can worry about that when I'm older.

  
Not that it matters, anyway. I'm with Bruce, and I always will be. There's no other option for me.

  
"Okay," I answer in a weak voice. I close my eyes and snuggle in closer. I know that Bruce isn't going to answer my original question, and I can't exactly say that I expected him to. It's more like I hoped he would.

  
I'm still not sure if Bruce is right about me not liking girls, but I'm not going to argue with him about it. It won't lead to anything good. When it comes to Bruce, sometimes it's just better to let things go.

  
"I love you," I whisper. Bruce hums happily in response, his hand stroking my back.

  
"I love you too, baby. Go to sleep now," he says in a soothing tone, his voice like a lullaby. I smile to myself, reminding myself that I am lucky. It doesn't always feel that way, but I really am blessed.

  
I'm blessed, happy, and in love. I am. I swear I am. I have to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment! Comments encourage me to write more.


	38. Breaking Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is crap. Super important announcement at the end of the chapter.

II'm woken up the next morning by the sound of the TV. It takes me a second to remember where I am. The bed feels different, off. The mattress is comfortable, and the comforter is made of soft silk, but it doesn't feel right.

  
Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window, blinding me. I pull the blankets over my head, and wish I could fall back to sleep. I don't want to get up. I want to stay in bed all day.

  
I can hear Bruce in the other room, talking to someone, his tone light and relaxed. It's hard to decipher exactly what he's saying over the noise of the TV, but I can hear him laugh. It's an easy laugh. I can tell that his guard is down. He must be talking to Selina.

  
I squeeze my eyes shut.

  
I'm jealous. I know I shouldn't be. Selina's married to Bruce, and I'm not. I have to deal with that. But I can't help the way I feel. I hate how intimate Bruce is with her. I hate how unfaithful Bruce is. He's not only unfaithful to me, but to Selina as well. How is that fair? How is that fair for anyone?

  
I throw the blankets off of me in anger. The cool air hits my bare skin, making me shiver. I quickly go through my suitcase and put on some warm sweats, listening to Bruce chatter away on the phone.

  
I stand at the doorway of the bedroom, watching Bruce walk back and forth in front of the TV. He watches his feet as he paces, a slight smile playing on his lips. I lean against the doorway, my lips pressed together in a frown.

  
Bruce has this whole other life, this secret life that I didn't know about for years. For so long, I thought I was all there was to Bruce's life. I thought that he had me and I had him, and that was all there was to it. All we had was each other.

  
But that's not the way it is. It's never really been that way, at least not for Bruce.

  
And then one day his cell phone rang, I answered it, and everything changed. Life was suddenly not how I had known it to be.  
I've tried to be good about it. I really, truly have. I've tried to just accept Bruce's life as it is without complaint, but it's hard. It's hard to realize that I'm not the only important thing in Bruce's life.

  
Maybe I'm just being selfish, and maybe I really do just need to suck it up, but it's not that easy. Bruce is all I have, my entire life depends on him, but he doesn't feel the same way at all. He has other people in his life. He has a wife and a daughter. Bruce doesn't need me. I know he said I'm the most important thing in his life, but it's hard for me to believe him.

  
Bruce glances up at me, and his smile widens. His face seems to light up when he spots me, his blue eyes practically sparkling at the sight of me. He's already dressed for the day in a black suit, his hair is neatly combed back. It's almost impossible to believe that I'm looking at the same person who forced me into having sex last night. He looks so different in the morning, less terrifying.

  
"Yeah, Dick just woke up," Bruce murmurs into the phone, his eyes not leaving mine. I shyly look away, my cheeks turning red under his gaze. I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hide myself.

  
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. I will. Love you too, bye." Bruce says, turning away from me. He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket, then turns to face me again. He flashes me a friendly smile, approaching me with open arms.

  
"Good morning, baby," Bruce says, embracing me. Before I can object, his lips are pressed against mine in a silencing kiss. I have to hold onto his shoulders so as not to lose my balance, allowing him to hold me closer.

  
The kiss is anything but gentle. Bruce's mouth is hard and dominating. I gasp in surprise when he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his handsome face. He looks kind of mean, actually. Arrogant and confident. I don't think I like that look on him. It scares me a little.

  
"Breakfast should be here any minute," Bruce says, as he lets me go, "Go take a shower."

  
I turn away on shaky legs, but just before I can step back into the bedroom, Bruce slaps my ass.

  
I yelp in surprise, glancing back at him over my shoulder. He's never done that before. I almost expect him to apologize, but Bruce just lets out a cold laugh before walking away.

  
What has gotten into him this morning?

  
I shower quickly, wondering what Bruce has planned for us today. I know he has to work, but he did promise that I could come with him. I'll finally get to see what Bruce is like at work, and that thought alone makes me smile. It's a good thing that Bruce wants to share this part of his life with me. This is a good sign.

  
I practically bounce out of the shower, rushing to get dressed in the outfit Bruce left out for me on the bed. At the end of the bed rests a tray of food, filled to the brim with breakfast foods. I can hear Bruce in the other room, fiddling with something in his briefcase. He walks into the bedroom, his eyes on his iPhone.

  
"Sit down and eat something," he demands, not even sparing me a glance. I do as he says, helping myself to one of the warm and crispy croissants. I use a knife to slice it open, intending to spread some jam and butter on it, but Bruce pulls the knife out of my hand before I can. I look up at him in surprise.

  
"Don't eat that. Too much fat. Have some of the eggs," he says. Bruce turns away before I can respond.

  
I nibble on some eggs and raisin toast, my eyes glued to Bruce's back. He tucks his phone back into his pocket, and turns to me with a satisfied smile.

  
"I have to leave now or I'll be late. I'll be home for dinner though," he says, picking up his briefcase. I drop my fork, pouting.  
"But you said I could go too," I whine. I know I sound like a little kid, but I don't care. Bruce did say I would be able to go to work with him. It's one of the reasons why I wanted to go on this trip in the first place.

  
"Not today, Dick," Bruce says, sighing in exasperation, "I have a lot of meetings today. I need to make sure everything goes smoothly."

  
"But that's not fair," I point out. Bruce just rolls his eyes at me. I know that there's no point in arguing with him. Bruce's mind is made up, and whatever I say is not going to change that.

  
"You will get the chance to come with me, I swear. Just not today," Bruce says, coming over to kiss my forehead. He looks at me as if I'm a toddler, "Stay in the room, okay? I don't want you wandering around the hotel by yourself. Lunch will arrive at one."

  
"Okay," I grumble, and then Bruce's lips are on mine, and I can't breathe. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and I whimper in surprise. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. Bruce moans, clawing at my skin. It hurts. His grip is too tight. I'm grateful when he finally pulls away and let's me fall back onto the bed. It takes me a moment to catch my breathe.

  
"Stay out of trouble," Bruce says, as he walks out of the room. I don't even answer him. I listen to the sound of his footsteps, and the ding of the elevator opening and closing. I run a hand through my still damp hair, closing my eyes.

  
Sometimes Bruce can just be too much for me. Most of the time, I don't even know how to handle him.

  
I take a couple of minutes to collect myself, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. Life can just be so overwhelming sometimes. It makes it difficult to breathe. I don't know how other people do it. I don't know how other kids get up every morning, go to school, and act like everything's okay. How do other kids not have panic attacks just thinking about getting through the day without having someone there to constantly guide them? What does it say about me that I do? Why am I so dependent on Bruce for my every need? I don't think other kids my age are this needy and pathetic. What's wrong with me?

  
I direct my attention back to my breakfast in an effort to distract myself. There's no point stressing about it. I slowly pick up my fork, eyeing the scrambled eggs. I know Bruce said I have to eat them, but I don't want to. They look so unpleasant. I don't think it's fair that Bruce tells me what I can and cannot eat, when he's not even here in the first place! He told me that I'd be able to come to work with him while in Metropolis, and so far, he hasn't stayed true to his word. Why should I stay true to mine?

  
It almost feels good when I choose the croissant over the eggs. I feel kind of rebellious when I slather jam and butter onto the tasty pastry. Bruce didn't want me to eat a croissant for breakfast, and that is why I must. I have always listened to every one of Bruce's orders, too terrified to go against his wishes. But I'm sick of being that way. It's not fair that I always have to do what he wants. What about what I want? Don't my desires and wishes matter?

  
I eat my croissant happily, feeling pretty damn good about myself. There's no way Bruce can know that I didn't eat the eggs, right? Breakfast will be long gone by the time he gets back. I can keep a secret from Bruce. It can't be a completely impossible feat.

  
After I finish my breakfast, I brush off my hands and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I take my time, because it's not like I have anywhere else I need to be. Once I'm done in the bathroom, I make myself comfortable in the living room, and turn on the TV.

  
I glance over at the clock and groan. It's only 8:30. What am I supposed to do until Bruce gets home? He specifically said that I can't leave the suite, so that doesn't leave me many options. It's not like I can go outside and explore the city.

  
I don't know if I would even if I could. I can't remember the last time I went anywhere by myself. Except for that time I attended Gotham Academy for a day, and that turned into a disaster. I don't think I would even know what to do if I went out by myself. The world is a dangerous place, especially for a young boy like myself. Isn't that what Bruce is always telling me?

  
I spend the next couple of hours flipping through the channels, trying to find something good to watch. Because it's a weekday morning, most channels are just playing the news or a morning talk show. I end up wasting time watching some ridiculous soap opera.

  
It's stupid and overly dramatic, but at the same time, mildly entertaining. All the characters are super good looking, and they're either falling madly in love with each other or plotting the other character's death. I'm surprised when I look at the clock and see that it's already noon. I had somehow managed to watch several episodes of trashy TV without noticing the time flying by.

  
I turn off the television, because my eyes are beginning to hurt from staring at a bright screen for too long. I'm not used to watching so much TV.

  
I lay on the couch for a little while longer, staring out at the view of the city. I study the magnificent buildings, and watch how the white, fluffy clouds float through the sky. Metropolis is such a pretty city, and I can't even go out and experience it. I wish I could. I wish Bruce hadn't left me all alone in this hotel room while he goes out and experiences life.

  
It's not just that I can't go outside, but I'm not even allowed to leave this suite! Bruce doesn't even want me walking around this hotel. It's ridiculous! I saw the advertisements for this place. This hotel has everything. I saw the pictures of the indoor and outdoor pools, the five star restaurant, the colorful arcade, the bowling alley. This hotel has it all. Hell, you wouldn't even need to leave the building itself to have a good time!

  
I sit up suddenly, a dangerous idea in mind. I don't need to leave this hotel to have fun. I can have fun and never leave the safety of this building. Sure, Bruce told me not to go wandering around by myself, but come on! I'm fourteen years old now! I'm definitely old enough to walk around a building without supervision. Bruce is just really overprotective of me, and that's understandable, considering everything he's been through. He just doesn't want me getting hurt.

  
But I'm not going to get hurt. At least, not if I stay within the safety of the hotel. There are security guards planted all over the building. Nothing bad will happen to me with some many people watching. Bruce really has nothing to worry about.

Besides, it's not like I have to tell him what I've been doing all day. I mean, I don't have to exactly lie to him, right? I can just be very vague about how I spent my day. I won't flat out lie to him, but just twist the truth a little.

  
The more I consider the idea, the more appealing it sounds to me. Breaking the rules is so unlike me, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I need to break out of my comfort zone a little. There is always a very good chance that Bruce'll find out that I went against his wishes, but maybe he won't.

  
I don't know. Maybe I'm so bored that I'm starting to lose my mind. It's possible that I might be so eager to do something besides sit and watch soap operas, that I've managed to convince myself that I can leave the suite without Bruce realizing it. Either way, I want to do it. I want to leave this room and explore everything this ridiculously expensive hotel has to offer me. After all, Bruce paid so much for us to stay here, I might as well enjoy it, right? When you think about it that way, I'm really doing Bruce a favor. I'm making sure we get our money's worth.

  
I jump off the sofa with a newfound energy, a smile on my face. I think I can handle walking around a hotel by myself. How hard could that be?

 

  
********************

 

  
It's very hard. I know that much as soon as I step out of the elevator. It dawns on me what I'm really doing, how I'm pretending to be something I'm not. Because that is what I'm doing right now. I'm pretending to be a normal teenage boy who has no problem being on their own for a day. I thought I could do this. I thought I could act like any other kid my age, but maybe I can't. Maybe I've been fooling myself this entire time.

  
It smells differently down here. Kind of funky and unsettling. Even though the place does look welcoming with its large fireplaces and antique furniture, I don't feel very welcomed. I think I might have made a mistake coming down here.

  
I stare at the elevator doors for a moment, considering my options. I can either wait for the elevator to open again, and scurry back to my suite like the pathetic loser that I am, or I can brave it out. I can face the unknown like anyone else who has an ounce of courage would.

  
I don't want to be a pathetic loser. I'm tired of being that. I'm tired of having to depend on Bruce for everything. There should be some things in my life that I feel comfortable doing by myself, and one of those things should be walking around a fancy hotel.

  
It might sound stupid that I'm kind of terrified of being alone, but I really am. Knowing how stupid that sounds doesn't make me any less scared though.

  
I walk down the hall slowly, reminding myself that I only need to take it one step at a time. It feels strange to walk by myself. I half expect Bruce to magically appear beside me, his larger presence always near. But there's no one here to help me.

  
I'm all alone right now, and that's okay. I don't need Bruce for every little thing. I can do this. I know I can.

  
I follow the hall to the main lobby, and am relieved to find that the lobby is almost entirely empty. There's a counter where three women sit, their eyes on bright computer screens and their fingers typing away. Across from them is a small lounge area, three couches gathered around a grand fireplace. An older man sits at one of them, too distracted by the novel he's reading to notice anything else.

  
I keep going, following a sign for the hotel's famous five star restaurant. There's a rope closing the restaurant off, preventing me from entering. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the sunlight spilling through the window, and hitting them just right so that the crystals sparkle like stars. The crisp, clean white tables are set and ready for guests, the wine glasses so clean that they twinkle.

  
A few tables are occupied by couples having an early lunch. I think they're mostly older. It's harder to tell because their faces have been kept young with plastic surgery.

  
I follow the signs for the pool. Not that I have a bathing suit with me right now. I don't think Alfred even packed me one. Bruce doesn't like me wearing a bathing suit, at least not in public. If I wore a bathing suit, then everyone would see the evidence of Bruce's actions. They would be able to see how battered up I am. I'm only allowed to put a bathing suit on at the manor, and that's only when Alfred opens the pool for the summer. So far this summer, he hasn't.

  
Instead of finding the pool, I end up at the bar. Fortunately for me, it's not too busy here either, with only a couple of people actually sitting at the bar. Some of them look like teenagers, a glass of what looks like club soda in their hands. There are a few pool tables here too, but only one of them is being used right now by two men.

  
My eyes immediately go to the younger man playing pool. Now that I get a better look at him, I don't think he's old enough to really be considered a man. I'm guessing he's probably eighteen, maybe nineteen? Either way, he's probably too old for me.

  
The boy has thick, midnight dark hair. His eyes are a strange greenish blue, maybe more of a turquoise color. He's well built. The short sleeved tee he's wearing really shows off his sculpted arms. Something about him makes it hard for me to look away.

  
The guy's got confidence. He's easily winning the pool game, to the point that it's just embarrassing for the other man. The other guy is clearly pissed about it. The man stands there, his arms crossed over his chest, a permanent frown on his face. The kid either doesn't notice it, or just doesn't care. He's enjoying himself way too much for that.

  
I sit down in the corner of the room at a lonely table. There's a tall, skinny menu resting there, so I pick it up and start flipping through it. I try to keep my eyes off the boy, but I can't. I don't know what it is, but something about him demands my attention.

  
I watch him over the top of my menu, mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes. I'm drawn to him. It's strange, because I've never felt this way about someone before. Not even Bruce. I've never been so mesmerized by someone at first sight.

  
Looking at him makes me heart speed up and my palms begin to sweat. He makes it hard to breathe. I'm so nervous, and I don't know why. I don't know why this stranger makes me feel this way. I don't even know him, but I want to. I want to know everything about him.

  
I put my menu back down on the table, giving up on pretending to study it. I try not to be too obvious about my staring. Instead, I spend the next thirty minutes or so looking back and forth between the boy and the floor. I'm too embarrassed to watch him for more than a few seconds at a time, but I also don't want to look away.

  
What's worse is that at some point, he begins to notice that I'm watching him. The first time he catches me staring, he flashes me a dazzling grin, and my whole body turns a deep shade of red in embarrassment. My gaze instantly falls to the floor, and I hear him lightly chuckle. I chew on my lower lip furiously, feeling like a complete fool.

  
I can't help but glance over at him again though, and this time, his eyes meet mine and he winks. I swear, my heart stopped beating for a moment when he did that. And then it speeds up again, hammering so loudly against my chest. I fear that everyone in the hotel can hear it. I look away nervously, but I can't help but smile a little.

  
I look at the boy a couple more times, and every time I do, I notice that he's watching me out of the corner of his eye. He still manages to win the pool game, even with half his attention on me. His opponent is pissed, and doesn't try to hide it either. He yammers on about how the kid cheated, but the kid doesn't let it bother him. He doesn't waste any time shrugging him off.

  
The older man stomps away, his hands balled up in fists and his face red and blotchy with anger. As he passes by me, I catch a strong whiff of the man's cologne. I gag at the smell.

  
The boy laughs silently as he leans his pool stick up against the nearest wall. I try not to watch him as he goes over to the bar and calls out to the bartender. I keep my eyes on the floor, trying to pretend he's not there, but it's pointless. I can't ignore him. He makes me sweat, and makes my stomach feel funny.

  
I hear him murmur something to the bartender, and then only a minute later, I hear the sound of two glasses sliding down the table. I look up quickly enough to see the boy grab the glasses of soda, and then walk towards me.

  
I can hear him approach me, the sound of his steady breathing causing my heart to skip a beat. My hands begin to shake because I'm so nervous, so I stuff them under my thighs. I look down at the floor, and watch as his designer sneakers stop in front of me. I hold my breathe, waiting for him to speak.

  
I didn't think he'd actually approach me. I mean, I knew he saw me watching him, but I thought he would just ignore me. I didn't think he'd actually want to talk to me. His next words make my heart stop.

  
"Want a drink?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!  
> Hey, guys. I know it's been a long time, and I'm really sorry about that. I've had a lot going on recently. Most of you might not realize this, but for over seven years now, I've been suffering from an eating disorder, depression, suicide, etc. Between my health issues and and my financial struggles, I haven't had much time to write. So I hope you guys can forgive me for not updating sooner.  
> It would mean so much to me if you guys can check out my tumblr. The link is thatcomicgirl52.tumblr.com. There's a lot of stuff there that has to with my fic, so if you want more of this story, then I strongly advise you to check out my blog. I just published a huge announcement regarding this story there. I can't announce it here though because I don't think the website allows it. It really is a super important announcement, and I think all of you should at least read it. Let me know what you think of the chapter in the comments below! Thank you!


	39. The Morning After The First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. It's been a while, but here is finally a new chapter! I've been going through a lot recently, but things have been looking up a little. Shout out to Do_The_Cool_Whip, who supported and believed in me. I hope you guys enjoy another chapter that delves into the twisted mind of Bruce Wayne.  
> If any of you are interested in reading more stuff that has to do with this fanfic, I recommend checking out my tumblr, thatcomicgirl52.tumblr.com. There's a link there that will lead you to a whole bunch of my fanfiction related stuff.   
> Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!

It takes me a moment after I wake up to remember. I stare at the ceiling, feeling the cool air against my bare skin. I ask myself why I'm naked, and then it all comes rushing back to me.

And I smile.

I reach over to the other side of the bed, expecting to find a sleeping Dick there, but the bed is empty. I'm alone. That's not right. That's not the way it's supposed to be.

I sit up fast, fisting the sheets in anger and confusion. Dick was supposed to wake up beside me. He was supposed to be curled up next to me, his body wrapped around mine. That's how this morning was supposed to go! So where the hell is he?!

The quiet whimpering from the nearest corner of the room gives me my answer.

I look over in that direction, and my heart immediately softens when I see Dick huddled there, a blanket wrapped tightly around him. I can't even see his face from where I sit, only his messy dark hair. He's crying quietly into the blanket, seemingly unaware that I'm watching him. 

I approach him quietly, carefully rolling out of the bed and taking delicate steps. I don't want to frighten him, or make Dick more upset than he already is. I know last night was...challenging for him, to say the least. He wasn't expecting it, and it's going to take a little getting used to. But Dick will adjust. He has to. I love him, and we were meant to be together. In every sense of the word.

"Dick?" I ask in a near whisper, placing a hand on a blanketed knee. Dick peeks up at me, his red rimmed eyes widening in fear. He tries to crawl farther away, but he's backed into a corner. There's nowhere else for him to go. "Why are you crying?"

Instead of answering me, Dick just starts to cry harder, hiding his face within the blanket again. I sigh loudly, removing my hand from his knee to instead run it through his hair. I remind myself to be patient with him.

This is so not what I wanted to be doing the morning after our first night together. Consoling a crying Dick is honestly the last thing I want to be doing right now.

"C'mon baby, talk to me. Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours," I coo. When Dick doesn't answer, I scoop him up into my arms and place him on my lap. He fights me for a moment, struggling to get away in panic, but he can't get away from me. I won't let him.

He quiets down when I begin to stroke his hair again, my voice calm and slow as I whisper soothing words to him.

"It's okay, Dick, it's okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. Everything's alright now."

Hesitantly, he leans his head against my chest, his breath slowly steadying. His whole body shakes, as if he's terrified, but I don't understand why he would be. There's nothing to be scared of. He's with me, the man who loves him above all else. There's nowhere in this world safer for him then with me.

I press his small body closer to mine, smiling at how perfectly he fits in my lap. I gently pull the blanket away from his face, to reveal wet eyes and tear tracks down his pale, soft cheeks. Dick's lower lip wobbles, like he's on the verge of sobbing. He looks exhausted and sick. I don't think he got any sleep last night. 

How did I not notice this sooner?

"Please, talk to me. I need to know what you're thinking," I practically beg him. Dick whimpers, rubbing his cheek against my chest. I run a hand through his soft hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. I don't know what to do with him and that kills me, because I should. I should know what to do to make him feel better. If I can't console Dick, then who can? 

I'm angry with myself. I've let Dick down. I'm supposed to be his guardian, his friend, his everything. I'm supposed to be there for him no matter. I'm supposed to know what's best for him, but I don't know what's best for him right now. He's upset and I don't know how to make him feel better.

I should have the answers, but I don't. I don't know what he's thinking or feeling, and I don't know how to make him tell me. I should be better than this. I am better than this. I have to be. 

"Do you want to take a warm bath? Will that make you feel better?" I ask, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. I feel him shrug against me. I’ll take that as a yes.

Carrying Dick to the bathroom is easy for me. He's a tiny, skinny little thing, his arms as fragile and delicate as twigs. Dick doesn't have much muscle on him at all. He used to, when I first took him in, but not anymore. I don't allow him much exercise. Exercise makes you strong, it gives you strength and the will to fight back. I don't need Dick fighting back. Not ever. I just need him to bend to my every will and need, without complaint or problem.

I start the hot bath for him, adding a generous amount of bubbles. They float through the air, catching Dick's attention. He leans against the wall, the blanket still wrapped tightly around him, watching the bubbles curiously. I stare at him for a moment, thinking how beautiful he is, and how lucky I am to call him mine.

Once the tub is full and ready, I turn my attention back towards Dick. I try to pull the blankets off of him, but his grip is stronger than expected. Dick doesn't say a thing, doesn't make a sound, but his face is hard and his eyes narrow with determination. He most definitely does not want my help stripping.

I growl in frustration, finally backing off, my hands in the air in surrender. Satisfied, Dick takes the blanket off himself, revealing his small, naked body. My mouth begins to water at the sight of his bare body, and I'm filled with the sudden urge to hold Dick down and fuck him hard. I push that feeling away though, focusing on the task at hand.

I hold out my hand, willing Dick to take it. It hurts that he didn't want my help taking the blanket off. Dick is being so cold towards me, and I didn't even do anything to deserve that. I have been nothing but good, loving, and kind to him. I don't deserve such disrespect. I don't want Dick to hate me. I don't know why Dick would hate me, but a small part of me is afraid that he does. I'll never admit that, though.

There's a long, torturous pause before Dick hesitantly takes my hand. He steps into the bathtub, sinking into the bubbling, steaming water. I watch as he visibly relaxes, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of content.

I rest my chin on the edge of the tub, silently watching Dick as he lays back and slowly dips his head underwater. He breaks the surface after a long moment, his dark hair soaked and sticking to his forehead. He looks perfect.

I don't break the silence. I don't dare to. Dick will talk to me when he's ready, and I'll be here when he is. I already told Lucius that I wouldn't be coming into work today, and I told Selina that I had too much work to do at home to drop by. I can be with Dick all day, hopefully with no distractions. 

I let Dick rest in the water for a while, watching him study his own toes as they peek out of the water. His expression is so dead, so empty of any emotion at all, it concerns me. I understand that last night was a new experience for him, and maybe I didn't prepare him as much as I should have, but he had to know it was coming. Dick had to know, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this is what it was all leading up to. We belong together, him and I. I'm not the only one who feels it. Dick feels it too. He has to.

At some point, I can't stand him sitting in his own dirt any longer. I wash his hair first, methodically massaging his scalp as I do. Dick hums, his eyelids fluttering closed in bliss. He leans in closer to my touch. I can't stop myself from smiling when he does.

When I gesture for Dick to stand up so that I can wash his body, he instantly tenses up, fear flashing in his eyes. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at him, opting to grab his wrist instead, and forcing him into a standing position myself. Dick winces as I do, and when I let go of his wrist, I notice that there are already purple bruises blooming there. Those must be from last night. I'm going to have to make sure those stay covered up.

Dick stares down at the water as I soap him down. He doesn't dare meet my eyes and that does not please me. Dick has no reason to be afraid of me. The way he is acting right now is ridiculous and uncalled for.

Once I've finished washing him, I gesture at Dick to step out of the tub. He does so without a word, his eyes glued to the floor. I grab a fluffy towel and carefully wrap it around his body. Dick is so still, so silent, that you'd think him a statue. It's like he doesn't even notice what's going on around him.

"This is enough, Dick," I finally say, not bothering to hide the agitation in my voice. I grab him a little too harshly, pulling him so close, that our noses almost touch. Dick's eyes widen in surprise. "I've given you your time to wallow. It's time to speak."

I wait for him to, a miserable silence filling the bathroom. Dick continues to watch me with that shocked, scared expression. He's run out my patience. 

"Speak, boy!" I snap, shaking Dick in anger. I've never called him that before. I don't know where it came from. It sounds so impersonal. So unlike us. I'm not sure whether I like it or not.

He whimpers in response, but a whimper is not a word, and that's what I need right now. Tears gather in his eyes, his baby blues shining.

"You're hurting me," he finally whispers. 

My lips part in surprise, and then I look down at how tightly I'm grasping his arms. I hadn't even realized....

I slowly let go of him, one finger at a time, as I try to come to terms with the reality of our situation. I've scared Dick, and by doing so, I have made him compliant. I have made him weak. Dick wouldn't have spoken if I hadn't frightened him into doing so. Fear works with Dick. It gets me a response from him. I'll remember that.

"I think...we should go have some breakfast now," I answer him, and then turn away, too distracted with my own thoughts to acknowledge him.

  
  


*************************

  
  


Breakfast is a silent affair, just as the bath was. I swallow my food down quickly, ravenous. Dick doesn’t do the same though. Instead, he only picks at his food, his eyes glazing over. It’s like he doesn’t even notice what’s in front of him. I try to ignore him, because his silence disturbs me.

Alfred ignores eye contact when he comes in to collect my empty plate. I know what he’s thinking. I know he heard what happened last night, and I know he’s judging me for it. 

I don’t care. Alfred can judge me all he wants, it won’t change the way I feel about Dick. Alfred just doesn’t understand. No one will, but that’s okay. I’ve accepted that. The love Dick and I share is...unconventional, to say the least. It’s different and complicated, but it’s real. And that’s all that matters.

He tries to collect Dick’s plate too, but I ask him to leave it. Dick has barely eaten, and I can’t have him starving himself. 

“Eat your breakfast,” I demand, pointing to his full plate. “You’ll need the energy.”

I stand up and follow Alfred to the kitchen, not bothering to wait for a response. It's not up for discussion anyway.

Alfred ignores me, busying himself with washing dishes. I stand at the entrance of the kitchen, my arms crossed over my chest as I stare him down. I know that he knows that I'm watching him. I refuse to speak first, though. I can wait Alfred out. 

“I know it’s not my place to say anything…,” he begins. Just as I expected him to, of course. Alfred still won’t turn to face me, but that’s alright. Maybe it’s easier for him if he doesn’t.

“But you will,” I say, the corner of my lips twitching into a smile. I didn’t really expect Alfred to keep his opinion to himself. At least, not on this matter. Besides, I welcome Alfred’s opinions. What he thinks means a lot to me, but whatever he says now, will not change the way I feel about Dick.

Alfred lets out an exhausted sigh, turning to face me. He’s disappointed in me, that much I know for sure. He thought I knew better then this.

“Master Bruce, are you aware of what you’ve started here? Are you sure this the path you want to go down?”

I stare at Alfred, angry with how condescending he sounds. He’s speaking to me as if I’m a child. As if I am unaware of my actions and the effects they have on people. I know what I did to Dick last night, and I know how it will affect him. I don’t need Alfred, of all people, to explain it to me.

“You would never say it out loud, but I know you’re disgusted with me right now. I know you think I’m a monster for what I’m doing with Dick, but you’re wrong,” I tell him, my voice hard and low.

I glare at my most loyal and understanding friend, willing him to argue with me. When I get angry, most people cower in fear, but not Alfred. Alfred has never been afraid of me. It’s one of the many things I admire about him.

“I could never think you are a monster,” he says, his voice so quiet that I have to inch closer to hear him. He looks down at the floor, and when he speaks again, I can hear how close he is to crying. It shocks me. “I can never think badly of you. You’re my son.”

I look away from him, because those words hit a little too close to home. Damn you, Alfred. 

“I've done nothing wrong. I love Dick. That's all there is to it,” I tell him, glaring down at the floor. Alfred shakes his head, most likely in disapproval, and turns to the dirty dishes.

“If that's what you say Sir, then I believe you,” he says quietly.

I know when a conversation is over; when there's nothing left you can do or say. I leave Alfred to his work, so that I can address a bigger problem at hand.

  
  


***********************

  
  


When Dick has finally finished eating his breakfast, I send him to the sitting room to watch some morning cartoons, while I get ready for the day. His reaction is one of surprised silence, since I usually don't let him watch cartoons. Nevertheless, he does what I asks. And when I see him cuddled up on the old couch with a blanket wrapped around him, his eyes glued to the colorful TV screen, I can't help but smile a little. Sometimes, it’s good to see Dick act like a typical kid. Not all the time, but sometimes.

I take this time to myself to shower, dress, and call Selina. We talk for only a few minutes, her asking how Dick’s birthday went. I tell her it went better then expected, but Dick is tired and resting now after such a busy evening. She doesn't question me, instead choosing to tell me about her plans for the day. Which, as per usual, consist of shopping and having lunch with her old friend, Harleen.

It's almost too easy to lie to Selina. It's too easy to lie to everyone, actually. It gets a little boring sometimes. I've become so good at manipulating and lying to people, that it's not even challenging for me anymore. I wonder what that says about me. I wonder what that says about the kind of person I am.

I shake away those thoughts, because I know I have nothing to feel guilty about. Everything I do, I do for a reason, and it’s to protect those I love. I lie to Dick about the death of his parents to protect him. I lie to him about my marriage to Selina so as not to hurt him. I lie to Selina about my feelings for Dick so she doesn't feel betrayed.

I tell many lies. Too many, some might say, but never without good reason. However, I was not lying when I told Alfred that I love Dick. That is probably the most honest thing I have ever said.

After I've hung up with Selina, I go downstairs to join Dick on the couch. Initially when I sit down next to him, he cowers away, but I ignore this, pulling him closer instead. It only takes a short minute for Dick to relax against my body, allowing me to comfort and cuddle him.

I stare at the television, too busy thinking about the little boy in my arms to focus on the cartoon animals. He still has barely spoken, but I'm sure he will. 

I just need to give Dick time. He needs time to adjust, to get used to the new changes in our relationship. I know that it's hard for him, but I have no doubt that eventually, Dick will realize how much better off things are this way. He’ll realize that we were meant to be together, and that when I do fuck him, it’s not just a physical act, but also an emotional one. 

I smile, because just the thought of our long future together makes me so happy. I pull Dick closer, and a thrill of excitement rushes up my spine when I hear him hum in content. I can already hear him purring in my ear now, begging me to fuck him harder. I can't wait. 

I can't wait to fuck Dick again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
